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Approx. 1am, Christmas Morning

Crack!

The gangly, half-bared form of the albino teenager toppled from Lawrence's rounded shoulders with no ceremony, dropping into the fresh snow. He was very glad to unload  the dead weight since collecting him from Layton. Seemingly no other bugger wanted to do the job on Christmas Day for a bottle of whiskey. Lawrence should have been somewhere in Knockturn getting blind drunk right now, not here, but this intrigued him though he did not admit.

The straggly wizard looked up from the flesh in the ice and puffed out a deep breath, clouding in the dark as he stretched on his back from the disburdenment. The air was freezing, it stung his nose and throat and made his lungs ache, but it was good to be alive another day.

Scotland had vast skies, endless, and he looked up a moment to admire. The snow had come frequently and thick that month, but for the moment the sky was clear overhead. Stars twinkled brightly in the obsidian sky, winds chased moonlit clouds high up above them. No sign of a sleigh and eight miniature reindeer, but there could only be so many Christmas miracles, Lawrence reflected. The boy would freeze easily, the exposure against his skin would see to hypothermia within the half hour.

By his scruffy boots, Zel Trumble was quiescent. Whatever Ira or Layton had given him kept him beautifully inert. The werewolf was still alive: quiet, trembling breaths had tickled Lawrence's ear soon after he'd hoisted the boy up to apparate. But if the owl to London did not get a suitable response Trumble might never leave the shores of Loch Ness in the shadow of the ruins of Urqhart Castle.

"Come on sleeping beauty," Lawrence muttered as he stooped to roll Zel over to face the lapping lake water. The dark, cold Loch licked within feet of the pale white hands.  Lawrence manhandled the boy into a position of quiet rest, as if he were in bed in his dormitory back at Hogwarts, visions of sugar-plums dancing in his head. He pressed Zel's hands against each other in prayer position, and making use of the stump of his left arm, lifted Zel's face and tucked both hands beneath his chin.

For the briefest of moments, an expression of tender care crossed the ex-auror's face, as if he were putting Zel to bed like a son he'd never had. This would be an endless sleep if Level Two did not respond, he reflected, and gently stroked his remaining hand through Zel's hair.

Musgrave's moral conscience faded as easily as it had arrived. He sneered, chuckling to himself at the scene.
"Oh! Almost forgot." He dug his hand inside his cloak tugging out a bright red santa hat. "Christmas present from Madam Almasy." He reached forward and roughly reattached it to Zel's head as best he could with only one hand. That would do.

Not too far away he heard a telltale crack of air split by a sudden appearance of another with magic. It echoed off the ruins of the castle behind them as he leaned over Zel's shoulder.

"Merry Christmas to all," Lawrence muttered, swiftly rising to his feet, drawing his dark cloak around him in preparation of vanishing. He twisted on the spot, "and to all a good night."

Archer was not upset about working over the holiday.  It saved him the trouble of having to go to Piddlehinton, and though he was happy to see his family most of the time, Christmas was its own monster with the extended Radley clan.  Even if Tamis was not particularly happy that he was spending the holiday in the office, she certainly wasn’t going to complain and make him put the case aside.  It wasn’t as though he could anyway.  Lost student, still legal adult, but that hardly mattered – and a werewolf. 

He’d sent his gifts though, at the very least.    So he wouldn’t need to get a howler about that.  He supposed when he was a student he had assumed that terrible trend would go away when he was an adult. 

Not quite the case. 

Leaning back in his chair, Archer was looking over the materials that had already been collected.  Eleor and Nadge had been sent to do some digging, Archer was with Warrington and Hayes.  The trainee was a little older than they normally were, a bit rough around the edges, but Archer would give her a fair shot. 

Rubbing his eyes, he looked at the clock.  It was past midnight. 

They had made some headway – dividing and conquering was the right choice, but they still didn’t have the boy and they didn’t know if he was alive or not.  Letting out a deep breath, Archer stood and stretched, surprised as he saw a parcel coming in.  What the bloody hell? 

Striding forward, Archer reached it and grabbed it, seeing the address.  Immediately,   he reached in his robe pocket for his wand  and levitated the package.  “Warrington! Hayes!” he bellowed.  “Incoming!” He found an empty(ish) table and with a couple of flicks of his wand the paper was open and the plush was sitting next to a letter. 

“Evidence bags!” he added with force, eyes feverishly scanning the letter. 

The dots started to connect straight away.  The plush.  The poem.  They, reasonably, had a maximum of thirty minutes: exposure, wounds… the cold.  Archer knew the course of action he wanted to pursue, but this was also a training opportunity.  He needed to give the trainee a shot.  He’d give her two minutes to put it together.  That was more than adequate for someone who reasonably knew how to read. 

He motioned to Omari to stay quiet.  He’d read to himself, he’d understand, but Archer narrowed his eyes at Hayes.  “Identify the situation, Hayes.  Plan your next steps, suggest a course of action.” 

The holidays made Hayes bitter, though she would never vocalise it. They also made her petulant, which was slightly evident in her attitude. So she mostly just felt relieved that she had been assigned to work over them. It wasn't like she'd be spending time with her family. Her móraí's last Christmas on this planet had been the previous year's, and she hadn't spoken with her mum or brother in ages. She had thought that perhaps this was the year she would set things right. Be an adult. Actualise one of her móraí's final wishes. But in her heart of hearts, she was far too stubborn to reach out. Even if she was (mostly) in the wrong.

Had she decided to be the better person she might be in Toronto right now. Or Belfast. Or wherever it was they all stayed on Christmas Eve. Hayes was, however, self-aware enough to know that she would most likely be on her way to passing out drunk on Seb and Indy's couch. They wouldn't let her spend the holidays alone, even though she didn't mind it. But that was neither here nor there as she found herself at work.

Despite the time, Hayes was not tired. This was the first time she had been part of a small group to work on a mission, and while she obviously wasn't happy it was due to a missing student, it was a bit of a relief to actually do something. She didn't know them well, but so far Archer and Warrington seemed pretty okay to her.

When Archer shouted for her and Warrington when the parcel arrived, Hayes nearly jumped out of her seat. She actually did when Archer called for evidence bags, which she fumbled around for on a shelf behind her, and then flung onto the table with unnecessary force. She resisted the urge to groan at her ridiculousness.

“Identify the situation, Hayes.  Plan your next steps, suggest a course of action.”

She took a breath and read through the note twice, absentmindedly petting (hitting?) the soft toy. Her adrenaline was surging. Her face felt hot. She took a moment to sort her thoughts and then spoke towards the desk in what, more or less, came off as a level tone.

"Right. Okay. Trumble's near Loch Ness. The northern end, I'd guess? And he's not faring well - what with the 'bleeding' and 'dying' bit."

Hayes took a pause and cleared her throat.

"I would send word to the others about this via owl. They can meet us at Loch Ness. We should bring a basic healing kit..." She cleared her throat again, giving her a second to think about the healing capabilities of her colleagues, annoyed when she realised she had no idea about them.

She stifled a cough. "I guess now we should determine if the bloke who took him is going to be there or not. Because this could be a trap for some sort of ambush, right? I dunno, it seems odd whoever took him would place him by the lake and let us... find him in time. But regardless, we should probably go soon and... and plan more on the way. If Trumble's bleeding out, we gotta go now. Right?" 

When she finished her thought process she finally glanced up through the hair in front of her eyes, darting them back and forth between Archer and Warrington, hoping her thought process had been right.

Omari had split feelings about getting on the case of the missing werewolf kid. After the last couple of months of not much happening, and him spending most of his time behind his desk, he was glad to finally be on active duty again. Working on the ground was why he had applied for Auror in the first place - desk duty wasn’t something he was cut out for.

And yet, working over Christmas was something that made him feel incredibly guilty. He had no real problem with it, but knowing that he wasn’t spending it with his mother made him feel bad. Yes, she was celebrating it with his uncle and his cousins, but he’d never missed Christmas with his mother before. That was something that she had been reminding him off during the last week.

He had been at his desk throughout the evening, munching on pastries his mother had sent him via owl and drinking cup after cup of scolding hot coffee. He had been waiting for something to happen, so when Archer beckoned him and Hayes, Omari flew up on his feet and instantly grabbed his winter cloak.

The note made him feel uneasy. What sick mind would take the time to taunt the Aurors with a poem just for the fun of it? And what trap would they walk in if they went to Loch Ness? He kept this thoughts to himself though, following Archer’s motion for him to be quiet and let the trainee assess the situation. It looked grim.

Hayes laid forward her thoughts, and nodded as she spoke. When she finally trailed off, Omari spoke.

“Quick assessment, lass,” he said in his deep Scottish tone. “We should head out right away”

This was typical Omari. He wanted to act straight away, and he was one for planning as you went along. He couldn’t understand the sort of people that planned everything down to the smallest detail. Things changed, especially in their line of work, and it was easier to understand the situation whilst you were in it.

He looked from Hayes to Archer and gave him an encouraging nod.

“Let’s send a note to everyone else and head out!”

Archer’s stare was intense.  He suspected Hayes would be able to make a quick judgment, but time was of the essence and he didn’t want to tell her answers.  It wouldn’t make her a good auror.  For all they knew, the bleeding and dying bit could imply their target was already dead.  There was a balance between a good education and timely response. 

Thankfully, Hayes was a good study. 

She identified the location and some essentials for the retrieval.  “Good,” he nodded in confirmation, “grab the kit – Warrington and I will send word,” he looked over to Omari with a strong expression.  He was ready to rush.  There were things they needed – Hayes to grab the kit, they needed to find an extra cloak – it was freezing, it’d be colder at Loch Ness.  They needed to inform the others.

“Owls are cumbersome,” Archer commented, “We’re better off using a patronus.”  He turned his wand over in his hand and let out a deep breath. “I’ll inform Carstairs, you inform Pratt,” he instructed, “For good measure, I’ll inform Eleor as well, in case need assistance.” 

With that, Archer turned and took a deep breath, envisioning his memory with closed eyes.  He was an even-tempered person, so accessing a heightened state of happiness required a bit of concentration.  When he had it, when the smile started to settle over his face, Archer cast the spell, a Labrador springing forth from the tip of his wand, with the message, “Correspondence received about Trumble location.  Loch Ness.  Northern edges.” 

The lab bounded off, leaving a trail of blue-white light trailing behind it. 

He supposed it was enough time for Hayes to have gotten the kit and returned, plus Warrington was gung-ho.   Archer summoned the letter and folded it, midair, before tucking it away in his pocket, in case they needed it before breathing heavily out of his nose.  The last thing he needed – he summoned his heavy cloak and caught it in his free hand before looking to both of them. 

“We’ll apparate together: grab my cloak,” he made the executive decision for them and waited for them to grab on[1] before he imagined the lake shore.  He didn’t want to think of the lake itself – they’d end up in the freezing water. 

So, the shores were where his mind took him and with a crack shot sound, they departed from the office and Archer landed with steady feed as chilling wind found its way up his shirt sleeves and made him balk.  They definitely didn’t have much time.  His wordless lumos quickly helped. 

“Now what, Hayes?”   

1.	I figured this would be okay to move things along! If you want me to change it, just shoot me a PM!

Omari was quite happy to let Archer take the lead. He had always had a hard time telling people what to do, and preferred to be a part of the team than a leader. Sure, he was good at taking decisions in the heat of action, but to be the general leader of a team wasn’t something he had been aiming for.

He let Archer throw out orders, and watched Hayes run away to grab the kit. And with Archer’s labrador erupting from his wand, Omari raised his own. Producing a happy memory had been hard since Lucas died a couple of years ago, but it had gotten easier. He closed his eyes and let a memory fill him. He saw himself, holding the cup signalling his win of the All-England Wizarding Duelling Competition - his first ever win. He saw his mother’s eyes glisten with pride, and his aunt applauding fiercely. A giant rhinoceros sprang from his wand and ran off, leaving a blue-light trail in its wake.

He turned to Archer.

“This might get messy,” he said, fixing the senior Auror in his gaze. “Ye sure she’s up fer it?”

Hayes returned, and Omari grabbed Archer’s cloak. He was ready, and he sure hoped the younger witch was too. This was a curious case, and he wasn’t sure how it would end. With his wand in one hand, and Archer’s cloak in the other before he felt that sucking feeling in his gut and they disapparated.

The cold was the first thing he felt (icy and biting), and he was instinctively in battle stance. His wand lit up with a wordless lumos, and his eyes started darting around, taking in the environment. He glanced over at Hayes, waiting for her to take the lead.

The first thing he felt was somebody lazily tugging a scratchy material over his head. Zel could hear the snow crunching softly as he shifted. He heard a voice, though the words felt so distant and his mind wasn't together yet-- not together enough to process what had been said. 

The werewolf took a trembling breath, and the cold air pierced his lungs. His eyes fluttered open, only to be faced with dark, lapping waters. He was by a lake. Zel shut his eyes tightly. This was a dream. This wasn't real. None of it had been real. It was all a part of his brain, one of the strange wolf-dreams he sometimes had before a full moon. Yes-- that was it. A dream. And if he closed his eyes and willed the world around him to smoke,  he would wake up on Emeline's couch with a cat sticking it's ass in his face.

His left side was completely numb, and the right was stinging, tingling-- penetrating down to the bone.

Willing the dream away was not working.

Zel's body protested as he sat up, the brightness of the snow was harsh on his eyes. The santa hat slipped off of his head and onto the snow. He blinked several times in quick succession and looked down. He felt transparent, his veins stood out against his ice-reddened skin.

He examined his body with the languid motions of someone whose mind was somewhere between conscious and unconscious, here and yet not at the same time.  There were some bite marks, some bruises-- typical after a full moon with not enough wolfsbane.

It was then that Zel registered the crusted, dried blood spattered across his body. His stomach reeled, but there was nothing in his stomach worth throwing up-- and he was left with a bitter taste in his mouth, a mind wide awake with the memories of the full moon, and a body that wanted nothing more than to curl up in the snow and go back to sleep.

A general warning for any swear words that Hayes lets slip from here on out.

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The events of this night were unfolding quickly. There wasn't much time to think or plan. But Hayes typically preferred it that way. She learned best by doing. Even if she had thoroughly read through the various training manuals she had been given since beginning training, she wouldn't be able to synthesise the theory with the reality until the reality actually happened. It was, however, slightly disconcerting to be thrust into a mission of this nature when a life was on the line. But her confidence increased at the aurors' approval of her course of action.

Hayes moved quickly to the other side of the office to grab a kit as Archer and Warrington cast their respective patronuses. She grabbed her own cloak which was strewn over a chair and grabbed hold of Archer's, closing her eyes tightly as they apparated.

It was cold. Shockingly cold. She put her patchy old cloak on, inwardly chastising herself for not bothering to sew it up properly. The wind cut right through it.

“Now what, Hayes?”

Oh fuck. Now what, indeed? Taking a cue from the other two she wordlessly cast lumos, then whispered  'point me',[1] spinning to face North.

'We head North. Maybe split up to cover more ground?' Hayes called over her to should to Archer and Warrington above the sounds of the wind. It was a pity they hadn't brought brooms. It'd be much quicker to search for Trumble if they had a bird's eye view of the area, even in this wind.[2]

 

1.	'The Four-Point Spell (Point Me) is a spell that causes the caster's wand to behave as if it were a compass and point North'.
2.	Not sure where everyone wants to go with this so I kept it short and vague!

Archer nodded in response to Omari’s inquiry.  There was no point in holding back.  A trainee needed to see the messy things, needed to experience the best and worst of the job.  This could be either. 

Archer hoped it would be the best, but it did not escape him that the much more likely scene would be gruesome.  The pattern, the notes and events: he did not anticipate that an unscathed (living) body would be recovered.   She’d need to see that too. All aurors did – and would – in their careers.  The sooner, probably the better.
 
But, her plan of action was rookie: as he expected.  Going north would do so much  - the letter’s suggestion was further north, but splitting up?  Archer shook his head and raised his wand.  “It’ll take too much time, Hayes,” he informed her firmly, but without judgment.  If it wasn’t freezing, if it didn’t penetrate through their cloaks and make Archer’s jaw clench with cold – the dart and look approach was not time efficient.

And splitting up?  They had no idea what waited for them in the dark on the edge of the lake. 

“Homenum Revelio,”[1] he announced – the visual cue – a faint-blueish white light would guide them to whomever was near.  If they broke the statute, he’d be willing to stand in front of the wizengamot to argue his point: he’d go toe-to-toe with any oblivator who challenged him if it meant the Trumble boy would be brought back. 

Scanning the horizon for the light, Archer extended his arm, pointing his wand at the light in the distance – obscured, but bouncing off of the snow.  “There!” he shouted and began.  Though Archer was perhaps not in the best of shape compared to his partners, but he had a wide stride and he took full advantage of that as he started off through the snow, cloak flapping behind him. 

1.	Human-Presence Revealing Spelling

As he staggered to his feet, Zel felt a distinct feeling like something-- a large bird was swooping above him. Instinctively, he ducked before realizing that there was nothing there. Was it a strong wind?

No. It felt deliberate.

He tried to think back to spells with a swooping feeling. Zel recalled reading something in a charms textbook...  Then it came to him clearly. The human presence revealing spell. Someone- a wizard- was looking for somebody. Were they looking for him? Zel desperately wished he had his wand, just in case the people who found him had less than honorable intentions. Perhaps his abductor wasn't done with him, not yet. Freezing to death perhaps wouldn't have been so bad, compared to whatever they had in store for him. All he'd have to do is curl up, fall asleep. And it'd be over.

Either way, they would find him soon. Anxiously, fell to his knees and fumbled around until he found a hefty, good size rock. It would do little against magic, but some sort of weapon was better than nothing.