Following on immediately from Give me your Guiding Hand

"I didn't want to hurt you, Andy...!" Lawrence yelled, more in frustration, as if he was holding himself back and her actions gave him no choice but to, raising his wand. The candles in the room suddenly flared, and his face was visible, glistening wet with tears, more despair than anger. "I'll make you rue that. I know where to find you now."

The candles snuffed out, plunging them back into winter night and Lawrence fled. He threw open the back door before disapparating with a sharp crack scaring sleeping birds up into the night.

Miranda Storm sat frozen in the armchair staring into the darkness at where the intruder had previous stood having blasted her back. Her breathing had halted in fear, terrified at what he may have done since she’d tried to attack him. But he’d left, hanging a threat in the air and the witch knew that she hadn’t seen the last of Lawrence Musgrave.

As if through impeccable timing, a loud crack in the kitchen alerted the witch to the arrival of someone in the kitchen. Miranda’s wand immediately snapped back to attention and she slowly and silently pushed herself from the armchair to investigate. Shoes were slipped off to allow her bare feet to step silently along the wooden floor to the kitchen. Her heartbeat crescendoed; beating loudly in her head as she begged it wasn’t him back again to finish the job.

The kitchen light suddenly blinded the witch and she was stood squinting at Gerda the tiny house elf, cross eyed at her wand tip.
“Shit! Gerda!” Miranda couldn’t stop herself, her eyes began to water as the adrenaline coursed through her veins. There was such an intense relief at seeing the tiny house elf.
“Mistress?”
“Ignan,” Her voice was shaky and unclear. “Bring him here. Now Gerda.” The despair from within Lawrence’s mind and soul was beginning to wash over the witch as Gerda immediately followed her instructions and vanished.

It felt like near on forever before the knock at the door finally announced what she hoped was the aurors. In reality it was probably only a few minutes. Mira didn’t delay; wand still in hand, she rushed back through the darkness of the living room and peered through the spyhole to see red robed figures.
The door was pulled open and the harassed and distressed looking witch addressed the aurors.
“Lawrence Musgrave,” she spoke quietly. “You’re five minutes too late.” But she stepped aside to allow them entry.

Bertie had been working late tonight and dictating to his quill as he filled out paperwork and reports. The aurors had been so busy with large cases lately, himself included, that he often had to stay late in order to catch up on what he neglected most-- paperwork. Busywork. Usually he had a couple trainees help him, but he didn't like making them stay so late. They were young, they should still be allowed time to go out and be with friends.

His badge alerted him to an emergency, and immediately Bert grabbed his wand, focused on the badge and apparated. Bertie didn't pay any mind to who followed him. He appeared at  a doorstep in Godric's Hollow and knocked. A worn down, stressed-looking witch answered the door. He recognized her as Miranda Elliot, his cousin Flynn's boss. He also knew her from Hogwarts--hadn't she been a visiting professor?

She let them in, and he closed the door behind them.

Lawrence Musgrave. The name was familiar. Bertie hadn't been an auror during Lawrence's time, but he had heard stories. Lawrence was presumed to be connected to several recent cases.

"I'm Auror Hughes." Bertie introduced himself more out of habit than anything else. There was gentleness to his formality. He went straight to business. "What did Lawrence Musgrave do?" He asked gently, "Tell us as much as you can."

For some reason Omari always seemed to be working late nowadays. He wasn’t even sure anymore if it was his own choice, or if it was what was expected of him. With all the things happening this last month, with the kidnapped werewolf cub, and the Dementors at the Three Broomsticks, Omari felt like he hadn’t had a night off since dinner with his mother and Johann.

The copious amounts of coffee he had been pouring into himself was starting to make its presence known in his stomach, and he was just at the loo when he felt the burning of his Auror badge in his pocket. Swearing, jumping out of the bathroom stalls with his leg clanking loudly against the tiles, he was as quickly as possible heading back towards their cubicles, trying to close his fly. He saw Bert dissaparate, snatched his cloak from his chair and focused on his badge to follow.

The cool night air of Godric’s Hollow took him by surprise, and he shivered as he quickly pulled his red auror robes over his shoulders, trying to look as respectable as possible when the door open. Miranda Elliot. He instantly released a flow of swearwords in his head, working really hard to hold them back. Omari wasn’t one for disliking people, but the witch and him had had a cool (to put it lightly) relationship since the trial. What give him a slight feel of satisfaction (and then guilt, for even thinking it) was that she seemed to not be able to put on that in-control demeanour she always tried to portray.

The mention of Musgrave, however, changed everything, and Omari instantly fell into his Auror role. Musgrave had been slipping beneath his fingers too many times, and he was still feeling all too eager to place the one-handed wizard behind bars after their talk at the Ministry last summer[1]. If it was anyone Omari could work against together with Miranda, it was Lawrence Musgrave.

“Elliot,” he said darkly, and with a nod towards Miranda he followed Bert inside. He let Bert do the talking as he was looking around the hall, his Auror eyes trying to catch whatever clue had been left behind of whatever Musgrave had been doing at their home. As Bert finished talking, he turned to Miranda.

“Yer sure it was Musgrave, then?” he said, with just the small tone of judgement in his Scottish voice.

1.	You Have Your Hands Full

She'd just been pulling on her jacket, preparing to go home and looking forward to a hot shower and a nightcap when her badge had suddenly and rapidly heated up. As if on automatic Adrianna dropped the jacket onto her chair instead and immediately apparated to whatever location the badge had specified, without thinking.

Two of her colleagues had already reached the door of the house. Adrianna followed, her ears perking up at the warning songs of startled birds around the vicinity. She had never seen this place, let alone know of the woman who answered the door, but the name 'Lawrence Musgrave' was enough to spark her interest and a certain amount of dread. Would this have anything to do with werewolves again?

She'd been spending some late nights at the Ministry catching up on cases as such, and she'd seen his name being mentioned in the reports. Thus far she'd deduced that he was a key suspect, but she hadn't expected him to actually crop up. He'd know that he was important to the Law Enforcement's investigations, right? Odd that he wouldn't be lying low, though with what recent events putting him at the source, lying low wouldn't be enough for the trail to blow over.

"Auror Xin," she introduced herself, and left it at that. There was dim light, but it was enough for her to notice the disarray. A struggle, but no blood. That was a good thing to begin with. She drew her wand and lit nearby candles, and then conjured a ring, gently glowing yellow, around the mess, to prevent anyone from disturbing any possible evidence.

When calling for the aurors through her badge, Miranda had hoped a couple would arrive while Musgrave was still there. Catching him would have taken away the final thread that she’d rue her actions as he knew where to find her. The aurors had been quick in responding but unfortunately not quick enough. To see three stepping over her threshold, Miranda struggled to hide her surprise. She’d never thought of aurors as particularly efficient. Perhaps their eagerness to send so many to one case was a cause of that.

There were now two familiar faces stood in the entrance to the house along with an unfamiliar foreign witch. Mira’s eyes first fell over Hughes, whom she was quite convinced she’d seen elsewhere but she wasn’t of the disposition to question it for the moment. Her gaze didn’t linger over Warrington, avoiding him as she was inwardly concerned if he’d take her seriously considering their frosty history.

Without standing on ceremony, Hughes asked her to recount everything. Then, as if to prove her concern, Warrington questioned her and Miranda’s lips pursed in disapproval as the candles in the room were lit and one could see the the few signs of their struggle.
Now fixing her dark eyed gaze on the less welcome male auror, Miranda bit back a sharp comment and instead began to fiddle in her robe pocket for her cigarettes.
“I went to school with him, Auror.” She tried to keep her tone calm but the stress of what had just happened was affecting her. “Or should I have asked him to wait for a picture?”

Finally, she found the cigarettes in her pocket and pulled one out, hands still shaking with shock.
“He broke in.” She addressed the other two. “He was here when I got home asking for chocolate. He’s been messing with Dementors.” Shaky hands lifted the cigarette to her lips and she lit the tip with her wand. She took a quick drag, “He’s severely affected by them and thought I could help him with the effects.”

Arms were folded over her chest, uncomfortable and evidently not even close to being at ease in the house now.
“He was unhinged. He’s been wanted for months! Why is it he can just walk into my house and threaten me?”

Bertie sent Omari a clearly disapproving look. This woman, Miranda Elliot, had been in some sort of crisis-- had been attacked by a man who was wanted by the ministry. And yet, Omari had to question it. Being attacked within one's own home was traumatizing! It was an invasion of safety and security in a very personal way. Bert wouldn't be surprised if she had difficulties being in her own home for a while.

Unhinged. So perhaps she denied him the chocolate, and then he attacked her? No, it had to be more than that. Before he could address it, though, he wanted to make sure she was as comfortable as she could be.  Lawrence Musgrave could be anywhere-- apparation was pesky in that way. Would it be better if they interviewed her at the ministry? She was so wound up, her hands were shaking. "Would you rather we interview you elsewhere? A couple of us could go through the crime scene. What would you prefer?"

"Master!" Ignan thought he heard the sound of elf appartiion, but dismissed it as his ears deceiving him, busy talking.

His office desk was full of paperwork. He'd only just dismissed Gerda from there a few minutes ago. She had brought up personal documents from the house in Godric's Hollow at his request that evening when he realised he was missing some. Much as he might have taken a trip there himself, he had been in the middle of things, drafting a new will now he was a married man.

Gerda was marvellously efficient, and had offered to take away some dirty crockery from where he'd not stopped for lunch earlier that day after covering an extra lesson. He'd thanked her and suggested she might want to catch up with her fellow elves for a little before she went home to Miranda.

After the elf's departure Ignan descended the stairs from the office into his classroom, hearing voices. Two of his sixth year students were bringing essays and had questions. The house elf, had gone back to his office in her haste.

"Master!" Gerda squeaked and covered her mouth on realising he was not alone. He finished his sentence and let the students go, rolling their essays together in his hands.

"Gerda?" He called up from the classroom floor, confused at why she had reappeared not more than a minute before she'd just departed.

His loyal house elf scampered down the steps from his office doorway until her enormous eyes were just beneath a level with his. She was wringing her little hands.
"Mistress told me to bring you at once."
"Did she? Why's that?" He asked, the essays in one hand as he came towards the foot of the stairs, frowning.
"No Master, but she swore at Gerda and she did not look well." Ignan frowned, 
"Well, we best go at once." He chucked both essays onto his classroom desk as he strode past.

Whereas Gerda could pop in and out of the castle by her own means, bringing Ignan through the anti-apparition charms was a bit beyond her what with the reinforced wards to prevent wizards doing that, but it did not take long to be out the staff room fire.

"Would you rather we interview you elsewhere? A couple…"

Ignan stepped out of the living room fireplace, wand in hand and took in the scene swiftly. Three aurors, Miranda and Gerda popped into the scene at the other end of the room as he observed.

"Miranda." Ignan spoke suddenly, not addressing the aurors, but striding to her side with immediate urgency, taking in her appearance. She looked like she'd had a shock, and someone had set a cordon in their living room. Had someone broken in?

"Are you alright? What's happened?" He asked, hands reaching out to touch her, wand still in his right. He ignored the fact he knew the other three in various guises. He and Hughes had worked together, Warrington he'd met amongst the mess of Wolfgang's werewolf attack and Xin he'd met a year ago in the Leaky Cauldron but remembered for her scarred face.

“I’m staying here,” replied Miranda without second thought. Their inability to catch Lawrence Musgrave was not going to drive her from her own home. She looked weak enough having called the aurors with him already gone when they arrived. Her weakness in such a situation was only highlighted by her shaking hands and nervous smoking; she didn’t need to make herself appear to be the terrified woman who couldn’t stay in the same room the attacker had been.

Finally the wizard she did was to see stepped through the flames of the fireplace and Miranda span her head around to see him making his way straight over to her.

"Are you alright? What's happened?"

A lesser woman may have, in utter relief to see their husband after such an ordeal, burst into tears there and then. Miranda, as Ignan touched her arm, simply nodded and took another drag of her cigarette to calm her nerves. It was something to do instead of focus on the shaking. She’d needed to tell him what had happened; it was his house. Being his wife, she was somewhat expected to share such experiences with him. But she still wasn’t accustomed to seeking support in someone’s arms, especially with an audience.

“Lawrence Musgrave was here when I got back. He threatened me to help him and this halfwit,” a hand waved in the direction of Auror Warrington “is questioning whether or not it was him.”

Omari felt Bertie’s judging looks, but decided to not acknowledge them. He knew that he might not be acting perfectly professional, and he knew that regardless of who the victim was, they were all meant to be treated the same by the force. But it was hard. The Head Healer was one of the few people in the wizarding world that Omari truly didn’t like. And he knew the feeling was mutual.

Instead of taking their bickering even further, he let Bertie ask the questions and started looking around the room, taking every detail in for later use. He cursed himself for not having brought a camera, but he wasn’t going to let that on, so he continued pacing slowly around the crime scene. He was just about to crouch down by the fireplace and examine it when green flames burst from it, and Omari had to scramble back not to get knocked over.

He recognised Ignan Storm instantly, as the older wizard stepped out of the fireplace. But Omari was shocked to see him here. What was the older Storm doing here? His confusion only grew as Ignan walked straight over to Elliot, touching her and asking what had happened. What had he missed?

“... and this halfwit is questioning whether or not it was him.”

The remark made Omari snap out of his confusion. He shot Bertie a look, before turning his full attention towards the smoking witch.

“I’m only doin’ me job,” Omari said, laying as much power as he could behind the words. “The fact that it’s dark an’ that’ yer have been put under shock - yer could’ve easily portrayed Musgrave’s face on whoever it was.”

He folded his arms, and puffed up his chest.

“But if yer certain it’s him, we’ll believe ya!”

Miranda didn't need to melt down or sob to indicate to Ignan that she had been shocked by an event. Gerda's explanation of swearing at the elf, requesting him immediately and now here smoking rapidly and shaking, as he felt under his fingertips.

She was a fearsome witch at the best of times, and yet she was shaking, the furniture was cordoned off and three aurors were in the room. She looked unharmed, her hair was untidy - more than usual after a long shift. She still smelled of the hospital. No visible signs of injury.

"Lawrence Musgrave was here when I got back." Miranda explained. Ignan's eyebrows shot up. He recognised the name from the newspapers, from Wolfgang's trial but he had never ever expected Musgrave would come to their house. Miranda had remarked upon him over a mention in the Prophet, elaborated that they had been the same year at Hogwarts. She'd always found him a bit weird at school. Then again, Miranda's standards for company were pretty high.

"… halfwit…" Miranda was rounding on Omari Warrington. Surely not - surely there had been a misunderstanding. Warrington was a fine auror, and had Ignan's respect for how he'd handled things with Johann.

"I'm only doin' me job," Warrington protested, Ignan pressed his lips into a flat line, blue eyes fixing on the auror. "… yer could've easily portrayed Musgrave's face on whoever it was. But if yer certain it's him, we'll believe ya!"

"Warrington," Ignan addressed in a low voice, "If the man threatened Miranda, she had more than his face to go on for identification. Why don't you focus less on whether she can recognise a man she went to school with for seven years and knew after, and more on what he was doing terrorising my wife." There was an edge that put firmly that this was no suggestion, but an order. Just as it had been in July, while dealing with aurors, he too easily slipped back into old methods of being one of them.

"Gerda," Ignan called, snapping his attention away from the red-robed wizard, "tea, chocolate for Miranda - unless it's clear something's been disturbed. In which case get one of the aurors to examine."

He looked back to Miranda, "Are you hurt, have they asked you that?" He looked back to Hughes, "How long have the three of you been here?"

She suppressed a smile at 'halfwit'. It would do her no good to be seen taking a laugh at the expense of her colleagues. But Warrington's attitude to the entire situation was starting to get on her nerves. She observed this woman - Miranda Elliot, if she had pieced the name right thanks to her colleague and the older man she somewhat recognised from a distant event - and regarded her approach to the entire situation at hand, while listening to him.

"Warrington." Adrianna was about finished with keeping silent. "I have to agree with him. I doubt she'd be the kind of person to be so easily shaken up to project. If it is indeed a false alarm or a case of lesser severity we'll find out in due course, but I have my reservations about how far you're going to get by accusing the victim of making things up almost immediately."

"How long have the three of you been here?" This question gave her pause. They hadn't been keeping track. "I'd estimate it around ten or fifteen minutes or so, sir, but we were late in arriving. He was gone for five minutes by the time we got here, according to Madam Elliot. She's established that she's not leaving the house to be interrogated, so is it all right if we can find somewhere else to ask questions and let her relax? Best to not disturb the scene so we can investigate it later."

Despite her shock at the evening’s events, Miranda nearly laughed out loud when the socially incapable auror blurted out “But if yer certain it’s him, we’ll believe ya!” she didn’t laugh. Instead she stared, unimpressed by his ridiculousness. It wasn’t even necessary to respond because Ignan started to speak in a much more reserved manner than his wife may have mustered up at that very moment.

The healer had barely noticed the other witch in the room as she’d been far too focused on the male aurors asking her questions. The female had remained quiet and nearly invisible until she did finally speak, not allowing Mira a chance to tell Ignan that she wasn’t hurt but that was thanks to her own attempt at taking him down and not how late the aurors had arrived.

“She? Her? Am I too terrorised to be spoken to directly?” Unfortunately for the aurors, with stress came anger and frustration. Miranda was growing quite furious that she’d been in the position where a wanted criminal had broken into her home. It never should have happened; he should have been back in Azkaban.

With her cigarette finished, Mira turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen, speaking as she went. “You interrogate a suspect, Auror, not a witness.”
In the kitchen Gerda was preparing tea for their ‘guests’. Mira’s lips pursed at the thought, rather feeling the need for something far stronger than tealeaves and hot water. But she said nothing as she stubbed her cigarette out in an ashtray and stood by the back door.
“Is anyone going to ask me what actually happened or is my sanity still in question?”

Out of touch. That was the thought that she snapped to immediately upon hearing the words of their charge. She sighed. If she was going back to working with the bigger cases, it was about time to shape up.

She was also very used to being in charge, if Adrianna was any judge on how she was handling this. That was a poor example, if the victim was more of an authority than the law enforcement.

"I apologise, madam," she said. "That was uncalled for. Please sit down while I..." She glanced back at her colleagues, and then at the scene. "...get things in order." That would give whatever time to the other two to talk. She turned to her colleagues.

"Hughes, Warrington, he might have left clues. Traces of the last place he was at, maybe. Something. Anything." Adrianna briefly scanned the area, keeping her voice low. "He's hiding in places we don't know about. Anyone would have the right to be angry that a wanted criminal's got the one-up on us, but by the sounds of it he's desperate. It would be too easy for him to get careless, and if he did we'll want what he left behind. Also, Warrington, you seem to know this lady. Mind letting me in on that too?"

After getting her answer, Adrianna headed towards the kitchen, where she waited by the doorway and out of hearing range until the two had finished talking, or appeared to have finished. In the pause that followed, she silently appeared around the corner.

"Excuse me for interrupting," she said, "but the sooner we get this done the sooner we can clean up and leave. It'll just be a few questions." From a pocket she retrieved a notepad and pencil, an old habit from China.

"What did he specifically ask from you?" she asked, flipping to a blank page as her gazed fixed itself on Miranda. "Exact wording would be preferred, but if you can't remember, it's fine."

"I'd estimate it around ten or fifteen minutes or so, sir, but we were late in arriving. He was gone for five minutes by the time we got here, according to Madam Elliot…" The auror he'd met in the Leaky Cauldron answered his question efficiently and Ignan gave a nod to acknowledge.

"She's established that she's not leaving the house to be interrogated, so is it all right if we can find somewhere else to ask questions and let her relax? Best to not disturb the scene so we can investigate it later."

“She? Her? Am I too terrorised to be spoken to directly?” Miranda shot back, disliking, quite rightly, to be spoken about. Ignan drew breath to speak and thought better of it, not wanting to also draw Mira's wrath. “You interrogate a suspect, Auror, not a witness.” She headed away into the kitchen, which had been the place Ignan was about to suggest, short of entirely retiring upstairs to the study overlooking the back of the house and telling the ghost to get out of the way.

The Professor fixed each of the aurors a look in turn.
"Might you conduct this investigation with some tact?" He uttered, keeping his voice moderated as best and turned away to join his wife in the kitchen, leaving the three aurors in the living room to confer.

Gerda glanced up as he entered, and procured a bottle to unscrew and add generously to one cup of tea which she presented to her mistress with long spindly fingers. Ignan's eyes ran over the door critically, and he stepped into the doorway to glance over the immediate back garden before looking back to Miranda with genuine concern.

"All the proper aurors clocked off for the day," he uttered to his wife quietly. "Can't find their way out a paper bag, let alone Musgrave." Gerda's attention was shifting from the tea behind them on the kitchen table, her great big ears twitching as the aurors talked. Auror Xin's approach cut short the conversation, Ignan not keen to say much before the aurors, rather more glad once they did their jobs and cleared off.

"Excuse me for interrupting, but the sooner we get this done the sooner we can clean up and leave. It'll just be a few questions." Ignan glanced to Miranda pointedly, as if to convey the notion of calm answers rather than snapping, however she felt the question was lacking."What did he specifically ask from you? Exact wording would be preferred, but if you can't remember, it's fine."

Ignan slid out his wand and cast wordlessly at the door, examining traces of the wards as the grain faintly glowed of colours. Gerda was wringing her hands, watching, mouth curled in a terrified, guilty expression. It was rare she genuinely displeased her owners. Elf magic had locked the door, and it was overcome by a decent wizard.

He tucked his wand away again and paid proper attention to the interview beside him, wearing a stern expression.

Miranda didn’t sit down as per the instruction of the female auror. Instead, she stood restlessly, feeling the need for another cigarette just to give her hands something to do. Fortunately, as if reading her mistress’ mind, Gerda passed her a mug that had a far stronger scent than a regular tea. It was appreciated but she wasn’t able to crack a smile. In fact, she’d simply stared plainly at Ignan when he’d mentioned the lack of decent auror in their house. She wasn’t sure if he’d meant it as a joke; either way, Miranda didn’t find any comfort in his words.

When the female auror returned, Mira was taking a sip of her tea, enjoying the warm burning sensation to give her a feeling of more than just frustration and fear. She caught the look from Ignan but ignored, looking in defiance instead at the auror.
What had he asked from her? Miranda put her mug on the side and decided to give a detailed response. It was quite evident this witch didn’t know who she was.

“I’m a specialist in healing the mind. Well, I’m the specialist. After the first few dementor attacks Minister Zephyr asked me to work with the victims. Musgrave must have known about it. I asked him what he wanted and he said me.” She paused, frowning down at the tea mug.
“’I can hear them when I'm not with them. The screaming. When I am away from them.’ He told me. ‘You’ll fix my ruddy head’he yelled at me, ‘I’ve got dementors in my head’.” As she remembered Miranda lowered herself into a seat at the kitchen table. “He suddenly got really angry and yelled at me. He’d already forced me into the armchair and he launched at me, grabbing my hair and yanking it. He’d get really angry, as if a rage consumed him before suddenly he retreated.”