Well, this was interesting.  Being given the slip of paper with the address of Zel Trumble's sister--Emeline--Hiraeth Gardens, 7C, the Auror, occupant of 7B, pinched the paper tightly between his fingers, considering all possible meanings of the words close to home. 

Having Migs--"Leonard," Adon had found out with some suppressed amusement--along was refreshingly motivating.  Migs' sensible but easy emphasis on nondiscrimination provided the appropriate fuel to them unearthing substantial and relevant documentation in the family's file in Level Two.  Stooping over a wide spread of parchment in Adon's cubicle, the two had begun to unravel what was, unfortunately for their time crunch, far from light reading.  Apparently, the Trumbles had been embroiled with werewolf discrimination for nearly a decade--alternatively doling out and receiving violent acts of aggression. 

Mother--with notedly strong undercurrent of werewolf intolerance--imprisoned for child neglect and withholding wolfsbane from Emeline, which result was Zel's lycanthropy.  Years before that, father--also known for discriminatory demeanor towards werewolves in Germany--victim of retaliatory and coordinated werewolf attack--resulting in his death, along with Emeline's lycanthropy and some bad scarring on a squib elder brother--now residing in Hogsmeade.  There were a handful of other children; Adon had not spent much time at his flat, but he had been there long enough to hear the pitter patter thump-thump-thump of loping youths... or small hippos.  Unclear. They were likely staying with Emeline through the break. Well, all expect perhaps that youngest--Nellie?  Stepfather living as a Muggle lawyer, now.  Wizarding families, Adon suspected, had the capacity for infinitely more complications than their Muggle counterparts; more areas of discrimination, more things that could go wrong, and decades and decades of remembrances, grudges, and family feuds that would not quit.  Perhaps this stepfather's remove was self-preservation.  Or perhaps he was creating distance for another reason. 

Adon's fingers tapped on a sheet of parchment dated within the year: case worker's notes.  Frowning, he swiveled in his chair to look directly at Migs, his fingers interlocked behind his head. "I say direct our primary attention towards first, determining which friend he met up with--and where.  Second, gathering information about his habits: what he was wearing, where he liked to go, any likely locations or hangouts with friends, any unusual behavior recently or lifestyle changes. Was this planned on his part, accidental, or criminal.  These things will help Radley in the field, but it will fall upon us to unearth the burden of proof."  He paused.  "Even still, statistically, the majority of adolescent kidnappings are custody and family related.  I'd like us also to pay mind towards any unaccounted family, particularly the estranged ones.  Particularly in the stepfather, mother, and the brother..." He listed hypotheticals: "If either of them are in communication with the mother...if this is truly werewolf related...the estranged members are all in a position to give crucial information about Zel, without any of the mitigating affections that family members typically have."  Another pause. "Does this seem reasonable to you?"

He chewed on his lip, not hiding the fact that he was sizing the kid up.  "It's a lot of information to go through, I know.  We'll have to keep the family," he left unsaid 'and the trainee,' "from getting overwhelmed.  They--most particularly the sister--may be very distraught and possibly desperate."

He cleared his throat, "The most important thing when contacting family and loved ones of a missing person--hell, to any victim of a crime or any witness for that matter--is making it easy for them to give information.  If a interview subject feels encouraged; that they alone can give information that will not only be helpful, but will further their own desires--be that getting a loved on back, or keeping the neighborhood safe, or even excusing themselves of any complicitness--they will be much more forthright, and it will feel a lot less like we are exerting pressure, and instead..." he fished for the right word. "cooperating."

Now, Adon liked soapboxing--most nearly every Level 2 member had fallen victim to an unanticipated break room rant from the Israeli.  The muckraking habits of the media?Al HaPanim[2]  The public's inability to understand truly their own role in community safety? Al HaPanim. The improper coffee brewing habits of the English?  Undoubtedly Al HaPanim..  This, however, was so important, but simply talking at his trainee charge seemed...useless. The only thing Adon had regularly instructed was Krav Maga and basic first aid.   And the only way you could learn those was hands-on experience.

Adon would have liked the opportunity to roleplay a little, but Zel had been gone for more than a day.  "So... Shall we? We can floo to my flat. I, ah, happen to live next-door."

1.	From "Here We Come A-wassailing"
2.	"awful, dreadful."

If Migs had made one observation over the past four months of training, it was this: being an Auror was very different than cattle ranching.  Before Migs had started his training, he remembered forming the quaint assumption that the frenzy of calving season had helped prepare him for the pace of the auror office.  How wrong he had been.  The pace of the Auror office was much more akin to sitting atop an irate bull, waiting for that gate to fly open and the beast to charge into the ring like a rabid kangaroo.  Even if the office pace was more akin to bull riding, those rarely lasted more than eight seconds, by design. 

And, how quickly he’d discovered the error in his thinking.  Thankfully, Migs had known better than to verbalize his preconception.  His first few years at Salem had helped him learn to conceal the depth of his culture shock and simply go with the flow.  That had proven to be very beneficial training. 

Migs’s gaze shifted between the spread of parchment and the man hunched over them, evaluating both sources of information for important or relevant details.  The importance of some tidbits of information was glaringly obvious and required little to no confirmation from the more experienced auror.  There were a few stray comments that gave Migs reason to pause, but looking to Eleor offered few clues.  For better or worse, Eleor’s expression was far less forthcoming than what was written on the parchment. 

"Does this seem reasonable to you?”

Migs settled back in his chair, letting his mind chew passively on the stream of information before attempting to formulate a response.  “Most of it, yes,” Migs said, slowly, nodding.  “It does. It makes sense to consider the family, but how do you avoid getting blinded to non-typical possibilities?  Doesn’t focusing on them because of probabilities run the risk of blinkering us to other possible explanations?” 

He also wanted to ask how one went about investigating the family about the family while avoiding putting the family on the defensive but Eleor seemed to launch into an explanation unbidden.  Migs nodded and smirked.  It sounded a lot like interrogating nieces and nephews about wall graffiti - only far more emotionally charged and with higher stakes. 

Definitely very different from cattle ranching.  “I’m ready, Migs confirmed, getting to his feet.  “So, you know them?  Or, her?” 

Whether it came from a natural skepticism of authority, a desire to prove himself, or just plain thinking out of the box, so far Migs had played devil's advocate at every major juncture.  First in the meeting with Carstairs--what was it about, focusing too much on Trumble being a werewolf?--and now this.  Well, at least it showed the kid was thinking it through.  Adon didn't mind the checks and balances, here.

“Most of it, yes,” Migs said, slowly, nodding.  “It does. It makes sense to consider the family, but how do you avoid getting blinded to non-typical possibilities?  Doesn’t focusing on them because of probabilities run the risk of blinkering us to other possible explanations?” 

"Ah. I see the confusion.  Just remember the two areas of questioning. One: which friend and where. Two: his habits--clothes, places he'd visit, his mood recently. That is what we find out, yes?" He nodded, waiting for Migs to show some indication of acknowledgement.  "There's a difference between focusing questions, and having a working theory.  Always have a theory, and always make your theory pliable.  Your evidence informs the theory, yes? Not the other way around.  You do not look for evidence to support the theory. But you always start somewhere. You always want to know something. The more specific, the further your questions can take you."

There was only one other thing to cover: "So you know them?"  Adon grinned sheepishly.  "Not really. ...Not at all."

---

Moments later, the duo stood on the doorstep.  Like a couple of Mormon missionaries, Adon thought unexpectedly, dizzily wondering  if it had even been a good idea to place himself to such a similar, emotional situation so soon.

Adon lifted his hand to knock, taking a moment to scratch his palm before forming a fist.  No time for nervousness in front of the trainee.  Still, Adon was not looking forward to the wall of feelings that they were about to plow into.  He wrapped his knuckles against the wood three times.

Although Margo had graciously offered Emeline some days off due to her brother going missing, Emeline had declined-- work was a welcome distraction. Besides, closer to the holiday she got more tips. She had been agonizing since the full moon about the whereabouts of her brother. Zel was consistent-- they always met up right before going into their respective cells. They always checked on each other afterwards.

Emeline heard a knocking on the door, but Zena had beaten her to the door.

"Wow." Zena eyed Adon and Migs suspiciously. "Em, our neighbor is here. With his boyfriend. In matching outfits... Auror robes."

Emeline shoved Zena out of the way and smiled anxiously at Adon and Migs. "I've been waiting for someone to come. Thank you, thank you." She said graciously, holding the door open to let them in. "Um, take a seat. Do you want tea? Water?"

Migs hesitated, chewing his lip.  The difference between focusing and a working theory made sense, but in much the same way that reading about tadpoles morphing into frogs made sense.  You could understand what the science books said and you might be able to answer related questions, but you couldn’t quite grasp it until you saw it. 

“Theoretically, I get it,” he responded as he got to his feet and reached for his hat.  He thought better of it and set it on his chair, figuring he could pick it up later.  Instead, he pulled his hair back into low ponytail before following the older Auror to the floo grates.  “Practically, it’ll be good to see it.” 

---

Migs stood a step or two behind Adon and watched, quietly, as the man paused before knocking on the door.  The door slid open and Migs offered a smile that only faltered, slightly, at the peculiar greeting. 

“No, thank you,” Migs replied to the beverage offer as he followed Eleor into the flat.  He knew he shouldn’t be surprised they both seemed so young; they were Zel’s siblings and he was young.  Still, shouldn’t there be an age limit on activities like this?  If people were required to be a certain age before operating heavy machinery or consuming things that would impair their judgement, shouldn’t they also have to be a certain age before handling stuff of this gravity? 

"Wow."

If Adon had a dollar for every time he heard that--said just like that: facetiously...

Adon flashed a smile at the girl, holding his hands out expressively so she could get a better look at the robes.  When Emeline joined, however, he smiled a bit more easily and a bit less like he was a... curiosity. 

"Thanks," Adon said vaguely, stepping into the flat.  "As you know," he said, giving a slow and easy smile, "I'm Auror Adon Eleor," she'd never officially met him--that he knew of, but the little sister seemed to know him well enough.  "This is Auror Migs Nadge."  Because this kid was not going to be Leonard on his watch. 

"I'm very sorry about what's happened, Emeline." Adon added.  He looked around, instantly taking in the similarities and differences between his flat and theirs.  Similar layout, but no loft.  The brick...  He wondered where it was that Zel had been staying, and if any of the personal effects scattered about were his.  From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the younger sister again--that must be Zena.  "We've already got a search party out on the lookout for him, but we're hoping that any information you could give would focus their efforts a bit; narrow the possibilities for them."  He looked encouragingly at Migs.  He'd get to ask the second question--he'd get the ball rolling. 

Settling into the offered seats on the couch, he looked directly across at the sister.  "Now, I know from what you reported to the Ministry that he was planning on seeing a friend earlier that afternoon.  Was he in correspondence with any particular friends? Anyone he would have set up plans with?"

Emeline gave Adon a gracious smile, relieved that he was ready to get straight to business. Despite the fact that Auror Migs declined a drink, it seemed that the twins were prepping some sort of snack plate and drinks in the kitchen for the guest. Em shook her head at that, but smiled at their eagerness to be proper hosts, despite the gravity of the situation.

""I'll give you all the information I can." She said quietly, "He was planning on seeing his friend, Raine." Emeline replied, "I found his letters. He's using one of our guest rooms. He's sentimental, so of course there's letters from her in there." Em suspected that her brother held a candle up for Raine, but every time she teased him about it, it was met with denials. It could be that he thought he wasn't good enough-- she couldn't tell with him.

"Raine Almasy. They were going to get lunch, I think."

The twins, Lucas and Emeric looked about as different as two fraternal twins could be, but they brought some water and store-bought cookies out with a synchronicity that two people who know each other very well tend to adopt.

Migs nodded his head, glancing from the young woman to Auror Adon.  He recognized the name from his previous year at Hogwarts and could almost put a face to it, but not quite.  Almasy had been a champion for her school durning one of the tournament tasks.  Either the first or second, Migs couldn’t remember which. 

“She’s in his year at Hogwarts, isn’t she?” Migs asked, thinking back to his classes at Hogwarts.  He was fairly certain he remembered having classes with both of them at some point during the year.  “How long have they been communicating by owl? 

“Would we be able to see the letters?” Migs asked.  They'd known, coming into the meeting, that there had been a planned outing which had developed into an unplanned disappearance.  Migs assumed that determining where the actual events deviated from the plan would help piece together what might have happened.  "And, did Zel happen to mention where they were planning on having lunch?  Was it a typical meeting location of theirs?" 

Emeline wringed her hands anxiously as Migs bombarded her with questions. Which one should she answer first?

"Um." Em hesitated, "I think she and Zel have been friends for awhile. I am not sure how long, but they've gotten closer over the last year. I think he has feelings for her." She wasn't sure if that was relevant. "I have no idea how long they've been communicating. They're friends. They communicate like friends do? I know she wasn't at school last semester." She looked from Adon to Migs and back again.

"Do you... Do you need to see his room?"

Adon gave Migs a nod of quiet approval--all the right questions, even if it was a bit too much at once.  Still, he wanted to reward the right instincts--those were the hardest to cultivate in an investigator.  Note for later: a better question might have been "Tell me what you know about his friend, Raine?"  It would have allowed the witness to give all the information at what she felt was her own speed.

"Do you need to see his room?"

Adon gave a nod, adding with sincerity, "That would be very helpful." Especially the letters, which with luck would say exactly where he had gone--which could lead them to where he had disappeared from. Which could lead them to witnesses who might have seen who he disappeared with.

But for now, Adon was particularly interested in seeing the space.  As they rounded the corner, Adon moved into a small but tidy place.  Just a bed, bedside table, a chair.  The bed was made. Nothing looked out of order.  "I want to come back to this in a minute--" he promised Em, not wanting her to think that this was unimportant, "but I'd like to check the bathroom that he used to see if he left his toothbrush. Have you noticed anything else he might have taken with him, or what he was wearing?" 

He seemed fond of Raine--sentimental, had feelings for her.  It would not be out of the realm of possible scenarios for him to slip away for a moment of freedom over the school break.  Its conjunction with the full moon made it less plausible, but--and he'd never say this to Migs--teenagers were idiots.

Em lingered by the door, Lucas at her side, watching the aurors carefully. Luke was doing very little to conceal his curiosity (and awe)  at the men in their fancy red robes. She hoped that he wasn't distracting, or in the way. Emeline wasn't about to shoo him. Zel was his brother too,  and he was worried. One of their siblings, their pack, was missing. Maybe dead. She didn't know. Emeline didn't trust so much in seers, so she doubted that scrying would actually work.  No. Aurors Eleor and Nagde would figure it out, and that is what she held onto.

The werewolf couldn't remmeber what Zel was wearing, and she was about to open her mouth to say so when Lucas confidently answered the question.

"He was wearing a blue sweater, grey trousers. They were too short on him. Runners." Luke gave Adon a solemn nod before motioning for them to follow him to the bathroom. "Zel left his toothbrush. The green one. And his cat. If he was going to be gone a long time, he wouldn't leave Furguson."

Adon gave a charmed smile at the little... guy.  He was what, 12? 13? Adon had been 13 when his father went missing. He didn't suppose the deeper feelings--resentment, frustration, abandonment--developed until afterwards.  But he remembered first that flopping, panicky feeling in your stomach, the need to just put it right and fix it.

He really hoped that in this kid's case, he could.  This is why he'd chosen his profession, he reminded himself.  He'd chosen it when he was 13 years old.

And so, when the kid spoke up, he gave a very wide, very open smile of approval.  "That's good," he said, looking over at Migs, though his words more more indirectly intended for the little brother.  "Got that? That will be helpful. We'll circulate that description to people who might have seen him."  After this, Adon decided he would let  Migs take the lead in the search for eye-witnesses.  A good canvassing was never a bad start.  And usually did not have the heavy, emotional potency that these visits and interviews tended to have.

"Mkay," Adon nodded, heading back into the Trumble guest room.  He noticed Emeline--how she hung back, arms folded across her chest as she watched him in the room.  Adon could feel the expectation there.  They were waiting for him--for them, Migs and he--to find something.

"Did you read the letters? Could we?" he asked, opening the drawer of the bedside table and pulling out its contents carefully. 

"I did read the letters." Emeline admitted, feeling guilty about the invasion of her brother's privacy. He trusted her enough not to even ward his room or drawers from intruders. He was a private person in many ways, but she wondered if him crashing at her place made it feel like he wasn't owed privacy. The thought made her heart ache. Her brother who loved her, and forgave her after she bit him and turned him into a werewolf... Was gone. She could feel her bottom lip begin to quiver, and she caught it with her teeth as she looked to the ground.

"You can read them too. They're in the bedside table. Wish I could know what he wrote to her."  Emeric wrapped his arms around her and she nuzzled the top of his head before pecking it affectionately. Emeric, usually so boisterous and loud, had been much quieter and more reserved since Zel went missing.

"If I hadn't bitten him, he wouldn't be in this situation right now." She didn't mean for the words to come out, but they did. "This wouldn't have happened if he wasn't a werewolf."

Migs grinned at the younger boy as the lad offered a description and nodded in confirmation when Eleor glanced in his direction.  “Will definitely be helpful,” he confirmed as he followed the small group back into the bedroom that was, supposedly, used by Zel.

When Emeline granted them permission, Migs crossed the room to retrieve the letters from the table and handed them Auror Eleor. 

“Do you happen to have any contact information for Raine, besides what’s on these letters?” he asked.  “If we were to try to reach her, do you happen to recall if there were any alternate addresses?” 

Migs glanced from Emeline to Eleor when the young woman admitted her guilt.  It felt natural to want to respond or offer reassurance, but he wasn’t sure if such a gesture was appropriate.  Or, if doing so rant the risk of being counter productive.  There was also the matter of Emeline’s belief that her brother’s disappearance was directly related to his lycanthropy.  However, pressing for more details about that on the heels of the confession could understandably come across as unsympathetic.  For now, he tucked that question in the back of his mind for later and watched Eleor for his response to the young woman’s self-imposed guilt.

Adon gave a compassionate smile in the direction of the older sister as he took Raine Almasy's letters from Migs.  He turned them between his hands thoughtfully, listening to Migs' questions, which seemed directed with the appropriate level of kindness and authoritativeness.  A quick study.  But Raine's address--they could get that from Hogwarts' official register and directory, if needed.

More at hand was Emeline Trumble's comment regarding herself, regarding her brother's condition.  He frowned slightly as she spoke.  He understood the sister's sentiment, the need to pick apart, to look for culpability and a reason for why such a thing had happened.  He was not as ready to blame the lycanthropy--or, by extension, Emeline Trumble--as she herself seemed to be, but he could not rule it out if Emmeline had any indications, any leads that had not been unearthed beforehand.

"What makes you say that, Emeline?" he asked, expression still kind.