The McBoid Family Farm
October 5, 3:34 PM

It had been rainy down in London, and the day was even more wet and dreary even farther north.  A loud crack sounded as the werewolf hunter popped into existence on the edge of the small farm, the hood of his cloak up to shield himself from the rain.

The next full moon was only a week away.  If they were truly dealing with another unregistered direwolf, then the countdown was even leaner.  There was little time to figure out what his team might be facing before he had to send them off to face the beasts once more.

He'd culled this address from the Ministry's Animagus registry.  Animagi on their own were rare:  few witches or wizards had the combined patience and skill to complete the ritual that triggered one's first transformation.  Animagi with some sort of large canine transformation were rarer still.  And yet he'd found a recently-registered Animagus fitting his criteria who lived not all that far from where a wizard had been found dead, seemingly by mauling, just before the rise of the last full moon.[1]

Kurby had started his search by clomping up to the cottage door, his boots already muddy from the path, but there had been no answer when he'd knocked.  With a sigh, he decided to check the rest of the farm.  He was running out of time to solve this mystery; he didn't want to have to come back to find this wolf Animagus and determine if she'd had anything to do with the previous month's attack.

He finally found someone in the barn.  A girl with shoulder-length brown hair stood at the front of the building, her back to him, grooming an adult horse.  A baby colt lingered nearby, snickering softly. 

Kurby pulled back his hood, shaking the rain off his shoulders as best he could, and cleared his throat.

"Oi!" he called out.  "I'm lookin' for --"

He broke off as the girl turned around.  He knew her.

"Oh," he said, his expression suddenly guarded.  "You."

1.	September 12, 2011 - Bad Moon Rising

It had been raining most of the day, making work slow. The animals were all busy staying dry and warm, lulled by the steady fall of rain. The surroundings were quiet, peaceful, and other than the falling water extremely still. Except for the people, nothing was moving.

This was one of Moira's days off work. She didn't feel like being in a rush. A month had passed since she began working at the Wentworth and Sons menagerie ranch. The job had given her a new appreciation for days off. There was always work to be done, even at home, but her dad and uncle were very capable and she was able to take things at a slower pace assuming there was no emergency. All the animal feed for the evening had been prepared, left in a storeroom until feeding time.

Moira had decided to spend time with her mare Cerys and the new colt. It had been a while since she had simply hung out with her equine friend, enjoying the day. Her clothes had been charmed with a water repellent but her hair was still soaked, darker in color for it. She was speaking Gaelic, not that the mare could understand words anyway, telling her about the different horses and creatures on the ranch. The mare stood content, listening to Moira's voice and enjoying the brushing despite the rain.

             "Oi!" he called out.  "I'm lookin' for --"

Kurby. Moira's expression spanned between curiosity to irritation before softening into something neutral, her own mask, as she turned to face the visitor. She remembered that sock on the door[1] comment he had made. Judging by his own change of demeanor he recognized her too. What was he doing here?

              "Oh," he said, his expression suddenly guarded.  "You."

After that kind of greeting she was even less inclined to say hello than she had been before. Instead she turned fully to face him, staying by Cerys, and watching him with her blank expression waiting to hear what he wanted and who he was looking for. Her dad, perhaps? Moira knew Kurby worked on level four at the ministry but she didn't know in what capacity. Maybe she would write that letter to Ambrose after all.

1.	Like A Fur Boot

The girl was a mousy little thing, but seeing her just standing there and staring at him was enough to make him start to feel uneasy.  Kurby crossed his arms defensively against his chest, eyeing her warily.  If Figaro Sellaphix's girlfriend was really the girl from the Animagus Registry, then she had a little bit of the wolf in her.  He didn't particularly like anyone who could turn into a large canine staring at him like that, even if this one probably didn't get as snarly around the full moon.

"Moira McBoid?" he asked gruffly. 

He couldn't remember if Figaro had mentioned her name when he'd unexpectedly run into the pair at the Sellaphix home.  If he had, Kurby hadn't paid attention.  He cleared his throat and went on, trying not to be unnerved by the girl's unnatural silence.

"I'm from the Werewolf Capture Unit.  I've got a few questions for you." 

Behind her, one of the horses whickered quietly, and then stamped its foot.  Kurby gave it a sour look.  He didn't really like animals to begin with, but he particularly didn't like animals that were bigger than he was. 

"Is there somewhere we can talk?" he asked impatiently, looking about as if half expecting to find another refuge within the barn itself.

Moira watched Kurby adopt a defensive posture. The idea that she could make him feel nervous was a little preposterous to her. He was older, bigger, and likely had far more experience than she did. Then again, he wasn't the first to get defensive around her. She never had been much of a people person.

The seconds ticked by and Moira continued to wait. Finally he spoke again, saying her name questioningly to which she gave a slight incline of her head, enough to confirm her identity. Even as Cerys moved behind her she remained still.

The witch's eyebrows furrowed for a moment in confusion as she learned his department and heard his request before they smoothed out once more. Werewolf Capture Unit? Questions for her? Moira considered him a moment longer. She hadn't done anything. "Aye."

Steeling herself she moved towards him, shutting the stall gate and locked it. "Office is this way." Without waiting to see if he was following, of course he was, Moira made her way down the isle and to a door she pushed open before flicking on the lights. A set of filing cabinets stood at the back wall behind a large oak desk with different papers and supply catalogs strewn over it. A couple wooden chairs were against the other wall.

Tucking her wand away Moira leaned back against the desk, her own arms crossed this time. "What kind of questions?"

He was probably being needlessly jumpy, but something about this whole situation had put him on edge.  Kurby followed the girl through the barn to a Muggle-looking office.  He glanced around it carefully, looking for anything that might be an impediment in case of a quick exit.

The girl leaned against the desk, declining to take a seat.  That was fine.  He'd rather stay on his feet; being able to pace gave him an outlet for any nervous energy.

He turned to fully face her, taking a moment to study her expression carefully.

"It should be quick," he said shortly.  "Just followin' up on a couple things."  That was best for something like this, even if he didn't know that it was going to be true.  People who felt too much like targets tended not to be forthcoming.

"Where were you during the last full moon?" he asked.  "Around here at all?"

Moira could almost feel tension emanating from Kurby. She had grown up with horses, learned to read body language and continued that study at Hogwarts. Now it was second nature, the witch unaware what exactly she was doing.

Kurby's assurance that this meeting wouldn't take long didn't assuage her concern about it any. She didn't socialize, much, and certainly didn't do anything to warrant public attention. The night with Figaro did not count, in her mind. That evening had been extremely spontaneous and unlike her, all because she felt sympathy for her former classmate.

Hearing his question, though, she blinked and stared at him, surprise showing through her mask of blankness. Moira was a beautiful white wolf but definitely not a werewolf. Glancing over at the yearly calendar on the wall she marked the date. "Aye, I left for work in the morning and returned after seven when I got off." That had been her first day without a trainer. Abby had visited a couple days before too she remembered fondly.

Looking back to her visitor again she waited for the next question to follow.

The werewolf hunter's brows knit.  Off work at seven.

"Where d'you work at?  Does your employer keep records of that?" he asked.

If so, at least that would be an easy alibi to confirm.  The daylight attack had happened sometime in the afternoon, so working until seven would mean that she couldn't have been involved in it. 

Kurby relaxed slightly, regarding the girl a bit more casually.  She seemed a bit young to become an Animagus, although perhaps it was something that students took on at Hogwarts now.  He'd noticed a couple of other recent additions when he checked the Registry.  Good on Figaro, at least, for finding a witch who was a decent hand at transfiguration.

"Next question," he added, eyebrows raising.  "You're an Animagus.  Aye?"

"Wentworth and Son's Magical Menageries, one of the ranches, and aye, there's a log book." Whatever he had gathered from her answer had caused a shift in the tension. The shift helped Moira relax some. Staying tense was no good for her or the animals, set off a bad tone.

The wizard's next question brought to light his reason for coming to find her.

"You're an Animagus.  Aye?"

Maybe her being a werewolf wasn't the point. Had there been an attack? She hadn't heard of one.

"Aye." Moira paused for a heartbeat. "Since I was fifteen." Her registration hadn't been until earlier that year, so it was obvious she had spent at least two years unregistered. Lying wasn't something she had a problem with when it served a good purpose. Regarding this subject lying would likely get her into some hot water, make her seem guilty of something.

The girl didn't make any attempt to deny it -- although it would have been hard for her to do so, once she had registered with the Ministry.  Legal Animagi were rarely the ones that they had to worry about.  It was the witches and wizards who tried to keep their powers secret, who strayed outside the bounds of the Ministry's regulations, who were likely to cause the problems.

It was impossible not to note the discrepancy with the math in regards to her registration date, but that wasn't something he really wanted to litigate.  If Moira McBoid had spent a couple of years running around as a wolf at Hogwarts without anyone there being any the wiser, he didn't care.  Unregistered Animagi weren't anything like unregistered werewolves.

The office that they were standing in was small, but it would be big enough, if the notations on the size of her animal form in the Registry had been correct.  Kurby nodded to the empty space between them.

"You mind?" he asked.  "I can look away."

Moira shook her head when he asked if she minded showing him her wolf form. Whether he looked away or not didn't matter, she had transformed in front of a few people already like at the registration. The change wasn't anything to be embarrassed about and felt as natural now as falling into bed at night.

Pushing off and away from the desk Moira and moved to the empty space between them. Taking a breath she transformed. In the span of a few seconds she changed from human to a large wolf.

Standing on all four paws Moira couldn't completely resist the natural urge to stretch out. Stretching helped loosen any lingering tightness and prepared her for any new movements. Taking a moment to sniff the floor - was that frosting she smelled? - she then looked up to Kurby curiously, ear twitching at a nicker coming from the barn. He wasn't going to ask her to sit or roll over, surely. Such an act would be demeaning to them both.

It was strange, watching a graceful change like this.  Any werewolf transformation was a violent endeavor; even with wolfsbane, the change brought on by the full moon was agonizing painful, as sinews and bones and muscles jerked and stretched in ways that they were never meant to move.  The ghastly, terrifying sounds of his father's transformations had been seared into his memory as a boy, as painful screams gave way to roaring snarls and howls.

Kurby stood still, his arms crossed, watching as the girl simply seemed to slip into her wolf form.  There was nothing to indicate that the transformation to the shape of a white Arctic wolf caused her any pain at all.  She stretched out lazily afterwards, and then lowered her now-canine head to sniff at the ground.

He knew that this was an Animagus and not something that was instantly going to try and kill him, but being so close to a large wolf still made him feel antsy.  Kurby let out a quick breath, and began to inspect the wolf carefully, dark eyes moving appraisingly over her white fur.  Even if he hadn't known already, it was clear from first glance that she wasn't a werewolf; her elongated snout and round, full tail made that obvious.  Her eyes had stayed blue even through her transformation, and there was a scar on her forehead that matched the one she'd had as a human.

Silently, he began to walk around her, still intently studying her form.  As he completed the circle, he paused, and then held a hand out to her, as if gesturing for her paw.

Seeing through the eyes of a wolf gave Moira a different perception of the world and its creatures. Her nose was her strongest asset while her hearing also played a vital role. Everything moved in different ways and as a wolf she better understood her surroundings. This situation was the same. Instead of reading and guessing what Kurby felt with her human eyes she now smelled it. Of course, that had taken much practice in differentiating between the scents. Now, Moira's nose told her to remain still and calm.

There was a time recently she had trusted her wolf senses, in the woods with an angry Roe stag. The deer could have seriously hurt her when she had accidentally stumbled across him, she had been lost in her thoughts while running, and when she had been in the process of getting away. Fortunately, she ran all the way back home without a scratch.

The wizard from the WWCU circled her, inspecting much the same way Almasy had, before stopping in front of her again. As he he held his hand out to her Moira tilted her head sideways. Finally she sat back and lifted the appropriate foot, placing her paw in his hand for his inspection. While she continued to watch his inspection the animagus couldn't help but wonder what kind of deal they had just made. Agreement that she wasn't a werewolf or some rampaging killer, most likely.

Kurby dropped down in a crouch next to the wolf.  He lifted her paw slightly as he examined it, tilting it upwards to see the claws.  As an Arctic wolf, she stood a bit smaller than most werewolves he'd encountered -- maybe a bit less than three feet tall at the shoulder, with her paw covering most of his palm.

Too small, judging by what he could remember of the claw marks.  This couldn't have been the wolf that had ravaged the wizard before the last full moon.  Swallowing, Kurby gave her a curt nod, setting her paw back on the floor again as he rose to stand.

It was eerie to watch a wolf staring at him like that when he knew that it was broad daylight outside, clearly watching him and comprehending what he was doing.  But this wasn't a werewolf.  Animagi didn't have the same animal instincts; the urge to attack and kill.  Even so, he wasn't under any illusions; even without lycanthropic rage, an angry Animagus with the wrong beast form could do plenty of damage.

"There was an attack a bit south of here, during the day before the last full moon," he told the wolf gruffly.  "We're tryin' to check on any possibilities before that time of the month comes around again."

Any mental wandering Moira might have done, her wolf senses could provide distracting information at times like the rain changing in intensity, was completely brought back to attention at Kurby's words. An attack not far from here done by something wolf-like. Concern showed on her face as much as a wolf's expression could allow.

For a moment she wondered if perhaps a Dobhailen had done it but quickly dismissed the notion. The damage done would be drastically different between a feline and canine. Besides, the Dobhailen were far too shy to openly approach someone and their actions weren't dictated by the fullness of the moon.

Being angry or upset that Kurby had come to investigate her never crossed Moira's mind. He was just doing his job. Had she been guilty of the crime then she deserved whatever punishment she would have received, not that she would have felt the same way if she'd attacked the person.

Giving an almost reluctant sigh Moira rose to her feet and shifted back into her witchy self. "So... possibly a direwolf?"

While werewolves and direwolves being considered strictly beasts was arguable, the girl had studied them same as she had many creatures with the happenings over the last couple years. One of those who had been kidnapped she had been on friendly terms with. Then there was Sasha's history with them. Naturally she wanted to know everything she could.

And like that, the girl had shifted back to human again.  Seeing such an effortless transformation between human and wolf make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.  An Animagus might not have the same furious rage or pose the same danger as a werewolf, but depending on its animal form, it could certainly cause some damage if it could get close and transform.

Moira McBoid's thoughts had clearly leapt to the same conclusion that he had first reached back in September.  Kurby gave a half-hearted shrug, crossing his arms again.

"Maybe," he said.  "But I'm not assumin'."

If truth be told, he had expected another daylight attack that same weekend.  When the first direwolves had appeared in 2009 during the Ides of March attacks, they had learned quickly that the creatures stayed transformed for close to seventy-two hours.  It seemed odd that there would be one daylight attack a few hours before sunset and then nothing else for the rest of the full moon.  If a direwolf had been looking to run rampant, it had made a poor job of it.

As an Animagus, and living on a farm, the McBoid girl likely had a better idea of what was normal among the local wildlife than other witches or wizards might.  Despite her relationship with Figaro Sellaphix, she seemed direct and to the point, which at least he could appreciate.  Maybe that was what allowed things with Zelda's chatterbox son to work.

"How long've you lived up here?" he asked, eyebrows raising as he regarded her.  "You must have an idea of any other canines that live in the area.  You ever seen evidence of any big dogs or wolves about?"