Hannah Bombay was looking far better today that she’d looked many of the previous times she’d seen Knox Greyfriar. Yes, her hair was in a scruffy ponytail atop her head and yes, her clothing was somewhat worn, old, well used. But she no longer looked exhausted and she’d certainly put a small margin of the lost weight back on. There were distinct differences in the very way that the healer carried herself when she walked into the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade.

Dressed in worn jeans that now had (perhaps fashionable) holes on the knees and thighs, a baggy blue jumper and trainers, Hannah still appeared tiny; a petite witch that would go unnoticed save for her face having been in the Daily Prophet far too many times. The mewling kitten in the carry case in the witch’s grip may also have been what attracted some of the stares.

The bear of a man wasn’t difficult to miss stood at the bar. Once the man who’d physically carried her out of a wizengamot courtroom after a hearing[1], now a friend, Knox Greyfriar had resumed his post as the Headmaster of Hogwarts and Hannah had yet to congratulate (or commiserate?!) the wizard on his venture.

“Knox.” The witch greeted, lips twisting into what some might call a smile. “Or is it Professor again?”

1.	Sleeping Dog’s Don’t Lie

"Hannah!"

Knox put a hold on his conversation with the bartender and bellowed the name of his old, cranky friend. Whether she liked it or not, she was getting an embrace. He kept it short, and when he released her, he looked her up and down.

"You can call me Susan if it makes you happy. Merlin's Incorruptible Bones, Hannah, you look surprisingly well."

The recently returned Headmaster was also looking better than ever. It was a wonder what a return home could do for the humors.  His days at the Wizengamot had been satisfyingly mental rigorous, but here at Hogwarts he was surrounded by people every day, and the energy never ceased. He missed his little cottage in Kent - he could have commuted (a few staff did), but there was something special about the castle community.

"Having anything?" Knox was waiting on an Irish coffee.  "You really do look so much better than last time I saw you."

How long ago had it been? Last he'd seen her, she'd just been released from Azkaban.

He hugged her. In the past, Hannah had thought for a while on why it was that people felt such an urge to make physical contact upon greeting a person. Occasionally, she had given the old bear an embrace. It had been a necessary release of emotion during a trying time. This meet between the two of them could not be defined as a trying time. The hug was superfluous, unnecessary and suffocating. Fortunately, Greyfriar withdrew as quickly as he’d attacked.

The peculiarity continued at the suggestion that she call him Susan to make her happy and Hannah simply stared, eyebrows risen beneath her thick fringe. There were several names that she would have called him over the last couple of years, Susan not being one of them.

And then came the comments on her appearance. Hannah would have folded her arms awkwardly if she weren’t currently carrying the cat box. Instead she bit her lower lip and shrugged. “I’ve put on weight.” Light brown eyes danced down to his belly, “Nothing to rival you, though.” and as if no insult had been made (because for Hannah it was simply stating plain fact), the witch looked to the bartender.
“I’ll have what he has. Without the coffee.”

“Just whiskey then?”

“Yes, exactly.” And the healer looked back to her old friend. She lifted the cat carrier up and placed it on the bar. “A present. For your old new job.” Inside, the little ginger kitten was mewling.

"No..."

Knox leaned forward to peer into the little crate. Inside was a striped orange kitten giving forth its mightiest disapproval. He looked back at Hannah, doing her the favor of not thanking her with anything more than a smile. The bartender didn't seem pleased to have a feline on the counter top, so when the drinks were prepared, Knox and Hannah promptly claimed the large corner booth.

"I haven't had a kitten in just ages," he said, poking his finger through so the kitten could have a sniff. "Knox Junior, do you think? Or Hannah the Lesser? That would make you Hannah the Greater."

He sipped his creamy spiked coffee.

"Mmm, she's a mighty beast, isn't she? How did you two meet?"

The wee kitty was nibbling on his pinky.

He liked the kitten. Good. Hannah had always enjoyed the company of Herbert, her own ginger cat. The feline was quiet company, unobtrusive, unquestioning and undemanding. Nothing like Knox. Perhaps he might learn something from the miniature furball.

For a wizard so intelligent and so supposedly good with words, his name suggestions were unfortunate. She’d always thought (but never voiced) that Knox was just a weird name. Hannah? Hannah was a lacklustre name, unexciting and dull.

“She was hanging around Charon’s point; a bit like you were when you picked me up[1]. A bit of a mess. I cleaned her up but Herbert isn’t a fan. He likes others on his territory as much as I do.” A small smirk appeared and Hannah lifted her coffeeless Irish coffee to her lips for a sip. “You need a better name than Knox or Hannah. Do you have no imagination?”

1.	His Den is Her’s too

"Why, what fateful origins. I am now convinced beyond all doubt this was meant to be. That's right, meant to be, ye wee beastie." The last sentence was spoken directly to the feline, in a coo.

Knox opened the carrier and laid his hand palm up near the door for the little fellow to investigate. Without hesitation, the kitten emerged and, with tiny needle claws in full use, scaled Knox's sleeved arm all the way to his shoulder. Knox's other hand went up to make a gentle attempt to stay her progress into his mane of thick black hair.

"Oh ho ho!" he laughed with delight.

"I think Hannox is the only possible moniker for you," he said, spurred on by Hannah's criticism of his earlier choices. He couldn't recall that he'd ever been responsible for naming a creature in his life, so he'd have to choose well.

"Like some witches I know, cats aren't always keen for constant company." He winked. "How have you been?"

Ira Almasy had been caught. Musgrave was deep inside Ministry care. Autumn was settling in.

Hannah watched, oddly content, as the kitten was released from her confines and proceeded to climb Knox’s arm. They liked one another which definitely pleased her. Knox, Hannah had always felt, was a host of contradictions. He was a sociable being that had chosen to live alone in the middle of nowhere. He was a knowledgeable wizengamot elder who’d chosen not to exploit his links for their own good. He’d chosen to live alone for years, before now moving back to Hogwarts, surrounded by people. He was an enigma. An enigma that fortunately liked cats.

“I like it.” The healer said as she reached a hand up to give the kitten a little fuss. “You won’t forget me, then.” It would, of course, be near impossible for Knox to ever forget Hannah.

“No one is threatening to kill me right now.” she offered him a wry smile. “I’m okay.” He probably wouldn’t be happy to hear that she’d been researching werewolf rights in a plan to cause some fuss.
“Are you’re back at Hogwarts. That’s a surprise.”

Knox knew to smile at Hannah's grim evaluation of her life based on the lowest possible standard - no one actively attempting her murder. Well, it was certainly a nice change of routine! He chuckled at her.

"I was a fool to ever leave," he said happily, taking a drink of the quickly cooling hot beverage. "I had some foolish thought that there was cause to make space for others, make space for something else in my life, some new mode of service, but," he wrinkled his brow, "not a failed experiment but certainly one whose results disproved the hypothesis. I should say that I'll need to be dragged from these walls, screaming and in chains, if I didn't actually think that was a possibility."

He raised his eyebrows over his mug at her. His own grim evaluation. Things had been quiet so far, but things would not go smoothly with a werewolf as Headmaster.

While Hannah didn’t appreciate the analogy of screaming and in chains, she tried to understand Knox’s need to help others and go back to Hogwarts. For her, Hogwarts had been days of not belonging. She’d arrived as a frizzy haired four eyed girl with a love for books and distaste for people. She’d made no friends through her time and had been further hindered by her newly found older half-brother who began to teach her Herbology in her later school years. Knox loved Hogwarts. Hannah had been glad to get out.

“You just like being able to tell people what to do.” The younger witch smiled as she watched the tiny ginger kitten on his shoulder. “You have a captive audience at Hogwarts and they’re less likely to argue back.”

Knox laughed loudly and startled Hannox who gripped his shoulder more tightly. Still chuckling, he reached up and gently pried her free. She attempted to gnaw on his calloused thumb.

"You're not wrong! I won't deny it. I'm not ashamed to say I know what I'm doing. Although you won't believe me, I intend to interfere as little as possible. To smooth the way for the students and professors to get the business of education done, and be a bulky bulwark between the school and outside interference. And gore."

"Whoops!" The kitten had slipped off his arm but caught herself with its little needle claws, leaving a trail of tiny scratch marks.

Yes, indeed, for the first time in awhile, all was in its proper place for Knox Greyfriar.

"How about you? Are you still Healing the waylaid at Azkaban? That can't be easy."

Hannah didn't need care or coddling, but it didn't mean she wouldn't benefit from a comfortable situation where her mind could be at ease.

With genuine feeling, Hannah found herself smiling at her friend as he handled the feisty little feline. They would definitely do well together. And Knox seemed happier than she’d ever seen him. Throughout the years that had led them to this point, neither had met the other with truly positive news. There had always been problems, disasters, catastrophes. This was different. This was calm and friendly and uncomplicated. The feeling that Hannah felt at seeing her friend and companion in such a manner was unusual and odd.

“I quite like it.” She remarked in response to her position at Azkaban. “Level 2 intended it as a punishment, clearly.” Carstairs had probably meant for it to remind her how she was also a criminal. It didn’t have its intended affect. “No one wants to talk to me, so no need to make conversation like when I was at St Mungos.” Shuffling in her seat, Hannah made herself comfortable and leaned forward on the table, her body language more open than was habitual. “If someone dies suddenly, they let me deal with it, finding the cause. It’s like old times, just…in prison.”

“Like you, I have a captive audience.”

It felt neither right nor wrong to be surprised at how Hannah seemed satisfied with her punitive posting. Knox himself would have been little able to stomach spending so much time in such a dim and grim. Even without Dementors it might sap every ounce of hope he had. But then, he had begun to get the feeling that Hannah had hope, but just had it more well-guarded to use when she needed it and to save for a rainy day. She deserved more credit.

"I hesitate to say I'm happy for you, but I think that's in order. And Azkaban is lucky to have you, Solomon Carstairs's grim sense of humor or no."  He rapped his knuckles on the table between them and smiled in a sort of gesture of fortitude. "Right, nice job."

Hannox interpreted the movement as an opportunity to practice her hunting and with a warm, fuzzy pounce she tackled his hand and kick-kick-kicked him with her pointy back feet.

"Honestly!" he exclaimed! "You take after your mother."

"Oh, sad but interesting: one of the Gryffindors, poor dear, was attacked by a werewolf while camping in America and was cursed. She'll be late arriving to Hogwarts. Sorry business." 

It seemed like something to mention. He and Hannah had the experience in common.  Lucinda Temple wouldn't be his first werewolf student, but she'd be the only one at Hogwarts (hopefully for many years to come.)

Knox brought up a new werewolf student to be soon returning to Hogwarts. Hannah took the moment to take a sip of her Irish coffee without the coffee.

“Hm.” There was clearly an expectation from Knox for her to engage in a sympathetic response. But Hannah didn’t know his student, she’d never heard of her before now. Of course, she felt for fellow werewolves, this child was now going to be a monster for life. But she wouldn’t think of anyone better than her friend to guide the girl through it. One might have thought that would be a suitable thing to say in the moment, but Hannah wasn’t quite so sure.

“Has she had her first transformation?” It was always the worst. Hannah remembered she’d resisted registering before it. She’d made her own wolfsbane potion and taken herself into the woods far away from anyone. Of course, it had been a reckless move from a terrified young witch. She wondered how terrified this girl was.

“I guess you’ve checked she’s registered? I wonder if she’s had a mentor forced upon her as well.” Sympathy could come from Knox, not Hannah.

Hannah was being kind, and Knox didn't fail to note it. One thing Knox had not found since becoming a werewolf was any sort of kinship between them. It was something he'd observed without disappointment, but he found it a bit puzzling. Most who had been cursed seemed to isolate themselves, or perhaps most were like he and Hannah and maintaining a single confidant. Perhaps this would begin to change in the younger generation (aye, may there never be a need)? But it remained, there was no warm embrace from all the werewolf elders to the younger ones and that was a shame.

"She's just had her first this month." Several days ago. "Attack was in August."

He continued on to answer Hannah's question about Lucinda's immersion in the system.

"Society can rest easy; she's wrapped in the secure embrace of the Werewolf Registry and all the proper forms are in order."  There was no love lost between Knox and the Ministry regarding that process, and Hannah knew that. It was, at best, complicated.

The mentor thing was fairly new. Knox Greyfriar couldn't recall if he actually had one. If he did, no one had lately harassed him about it.

"Still waiting on word of what her arrangements will be. It's good she'll be at Hogwarts."

This Knox Greyfriar felt was true to his deepest heart.