Thursday, 8 December
A little after 6 PM
Kurby Bagnold's flat, Diagon Alley

The rain was beating a steady pattern on the pavement outside, and the wind was rattling the shutters.  Outside, the streets of Diagon Alley were nearly empty, dark and wet despite the almost-full moon that was mostly shrouded by dark clouds.

Their three-day watch would begin at sunrise.  It had been over two years since the first of the direwolf attacks, since the Capture Unit's monthly vigil had been violently extended from twelve hours into sixty.  Magic or not, it was impossible for any one of them to stay awake for the entire stretch, although Merlin knew he sometimes tried.  It was an exhausting duty, one that often felt endless even before it started, particularly during a month like this when he knew he'd need to stay alert for the entire duration.

Kurby had kicked all the kids out early that afternoon.  He'd sent the other long-time team members -- Bellingham, Li -- home early too.  They'd done all of the planning they could, checking and re-checking assumptions for what was sure to be a long weekend.  The least they could all do was take the evening off to relax, so at least their heads would be fully in the game when they arrived back at the Ministry in the morning.

That was one reason he'd chosen tonight to invite McBoid over.  As always, the upcoming full moon offered an easy excuse to kick a guest out if he decided he wanted no part of this experiment after all.  But the night before a full moon started always left Kurby feeling antsy, as if he were trapped with too much nervous, electric energy.  Having something to do, even if  it was drinking with a wizard he wasn't entirely certain he wanted to get to know again, would at least keep him from dwelling on what was coming in the morning.

He hadn't been entirely sure that the Scotsman would take him up on his invitation, but he'd suspected.  Kurby had been lounging on the sofa, fiddling with the protective charms on his one of his gauntlets, when three loud knocks had sounded on the door, just after 6 PM.  The werewolf hunter had dragged himself to his feet, tossing the wrist guard onto the desk that he used to store the tools for his hobby, and headed over to unlock the front door.

Duncan McBoid didn't look as if he had changed much in the past thirteen years.  The Scotsman towered over him by nearly a foot, tall enough that he'd nearly scrape his head on the doorway.  He was still scruffy and lean, with his beard in active rebellion at all attempts to groom it. 

Kurby cocked an eyebrow at him, appraising the older man silently.  After a beat, he stepped back, leaving the door open behind him so that the other wizard could enter as he headed to the small kitchen in his flat to grab a couple of beers.

In the past few days, three letters had arrived for Duncan. Two of them were business related. One was related to a race for winged horses, and the other about a creature that needed to be extracted from an unhappy home. Duncan had been notified that further details were pending.

Keeping his side business a secret from his family came as second nature to the Scotsman now. Any received letters were burned once he memorized the contents, especially dates and addresses. The risk of someone snooping was too great. He looked at open letters laying about too out of curiosity.

The third letter contained something of a more personal nature. Receiving it had not been much of a surprise but the swiftness and contents of the message had. When Duncan sent the his original letter[1] along with the offer to catch up he'd fully expected Bagnold's response to be a less than polite 'no'. He wasn't entirely sure what had prompted the idea, either.

Leaving the farm around 5 pm he stopped somewhere for a quick bite to eat, in preparation to the beer and give himself a pause to wonder what he was getting himself into. Over ten years had passed since the two last saw each other and people changed in more ways than one. In his usual manner, the food was practically inhaled. He chose to walk the rest of the way through Diagon.

A charm had been cast to keep him warm and dry in the pouring rain while his coat kept the chill of the wind at bay. Duncan was not bothered by the dimly lit streets. His footfalls were sure and confident. Visiting someone from the past might turn out to be a poor decision, but one that had been made. He would see it through. Stopping at the door to Kurby's home, he knocked three times.

The door opened and both men regarded the other silently. Bagnold's eyes seemed harder than he remembered. Whether from life, the impending full moon, or both it was difficult to tell. The wizard before him was certainly not the young man recently out of Hogwarts anymore.

Bagnold left for the kitchen, a silent invitation and Duncan entered the flat, shutting the door behind him. Green eyes took in his surroundings, noting any nooks and the placement of furniture. Long ago he had formed the habit of taking notice for defensible positions, or places something could be hidden. That kind of trouble was the farthest thing from his mind, but the habit was one he wouldn't break.

To break the ice, Duncan shrugged out of his coat and said, "Cozy place."

1.	One Way to Reunite

The werewolf hunter's flat was small and neatly ordered.  The front door opened into the main living area, which had a small sofa, a wooden coffee table, and a dark blue arm chair.  Off to the side sat a wooden desk, with a few scattered metalworking tools that Kurby used for his hobby, and a tall bookcase, which looked to be filled mostly with informative volumes on defensive enchantments and charms.  A large window looked down onto the streets of Diagon Alley, a good five stories below.  Except for a framed photo on the desk and an awkward-looking Muggly the Bear plush that had been placed on the uppermost shelf of the bookshelf, the flat was largely devoid of personal touches.

Kurby returned a few moments later from the small kitchen, with two glasses of beer in hand.  He gave a half-shrug in response, as he passed one of the drinks to the older wizard.

"It's economic," he replied matter-of-factly.  He lifted his own glass slightly in the Scotsman's direction, as if to make a half-toast, and as he moved to sit in the armchair, leaving the sofa free for the other man.

This was...inherently awkward.  It helped to have a beer in his hand, which at least gave him something to fidget with while he was trying to figure out how the hell to make conversation.  But how the hell was he supposed to chat up someone that he hadn't seen for thirteen years?  McBoid looked largely the same as he remembered him, but he had no idea what the older wizard's life had been like over the past decade.  Were they supposed to catch up?  To pretend like nothing had changed?  Bond awkwardly over stories of Shay being an arse?

Annoyed, Kurby took a long swallow of beer, pushing any feeling of awkwardness aside.  To hell with being uncomfortable.

"I came by your family's farm a few weeks ago to see to your niece," he remarked, glancing over at the older man.  If Moira McBoid had mentioned him to her uncle, he assumed that she had passed on that bit of information as well.  "I would've dropped in to say hello if I'd known you were livin' there too, but I never realized there were so many of you McBoids runnin' about."

Considering Bagnold's home Duncan was struck by the similarity between it and Moira's room. Of course, he had been joking in the letter but the similarities couldn't be denied. Young as she was, his niece was already married to her work and the state of her room showed it. Books on different creatures and caring for them, she even had a habitat for her pet Niffler. There were very few personal touches in either of their living spaces.

Accepting the beer, Duncan nodded in return to the half salute and took a seat on the vacant couch. Silence permeated the air between them.

During his meal and the walk he had wondered in part how they would start talking and about what. Now, sitting on the couch in his old comrade's flat he still didn't know. He couls bring up the past, ask about the present, or comment on something for the future. None of which sounded appealing. Fortunately he didn't have to decide. Bagnold began by starting on common ground. His niece.

"Angus saw you from a distance that day and later questioned her about it. All he got though was that someone from the WCU was investigating a possible direwolf attack near Edinburgh and asked if her family knew anything. She never said a name." Moira always prefered to give as little information as possible.

Taking a drink he added, "Many's a strong word. It's just the three of us and even if you had known it wouldn't have mattered. I was away on business and didn't return until the next week, which is when Angus told me about the WCU's visit." Bagnold's name wouldn't have meant anything to his brother. Duncan had tended to keep his family and business separate.

"Doesn't say a lot at all, does she?"  Kurby cracked a grin, removing any harshness from his words.  "Took buyin' her a couple of whiskeys to get her talkin' the last time.  She's a perceptive kid, even when she's drinkin'."

After their second encounter at her family's farm, Moira McBoid had struck him as a little too intense for his liking.  But he felt like he understood the wolf girl better now, after spending an evening getting a better read on her.  Knowing that Duncan was her uncle slipped another piece into place.

It told him a bit about his old comrade, too, once he started to connect the pieces.  Moira had said that her mother had died when she was five, right around the end of the war, and said again that her uncle had moved in soon after it ended.  That would have been right around when Shay and Duncan had had their blow-up, when the older wizard had declared he wouldn't be returning to the Ministry because he didn't trust the powers-that-be.  He must've decided to move in with his newly-widowed brother and young niece instead.

He didn't particularly feel like talking about the Capture Unit tonight; there'd be plenty enough to think about with his work in the morning once their full moon watch began.  Kurby fidgeted with the arm of the chair, flicking at the folds in the fabric.

"How's life been, then?" he asked, glancing at the Scottish wizard.  "Never thought of you as the sort to take to farming, but I reckon that family makes all the difference."

"Getting information out of her is like trying to shave Merlin's beard," Duncan chuckled. "I'm surprised you were able to get as much as you did." That was why he rarely asked her questions in a straightforward manner. There were quite a few things she had picked up from him over the years. "Too perceptive sometimes." Sometimes he used it against her, like arriving home smelling faintly of a woman's perfume.

Duncan relaxed back on the couch, propping an ankle up on his knee. The move was fully intentional on his part, to help ease the uncomfortable atmosphere between them. If they both remained stiff and half ready to jump the evening would be a long one. Personally, he preferred it to proceed semi-pleasantly at least despite any awkwardness. Kurby Bagnold was exuding it with ever new fidget and uncertain glance.

"I can't complain." Duncan had to laugh at the comment on him being a farmer. The man wasn't wrong. "Family does make all of the difference, but I only do what needs to be done. I travel as often as possible.

What about you, though? Has work consumed you or are you finding a new hobby in drinking with McBoids?" Tossing Bagnold an amused glance he rolled his glass idly between his fingers.

The werewolf hunter quirked a brow at the older wizard as he took a drink from his beer.  Travel as often as possible didn't sound like it matched Duncan's claim that he couldn't complain about how life was going; in fact, it sounded rather the opposite. 

But it was too early in the night to pry, so he settled for shooting the other man a quick smirk.  "Not sure my bank account could take that," he retorted nicely.  "Whenever I've gone drinkin' with McBoids lately, somehow it always seems like I'm the one payin' for' every round."

Settling back into the chair, he considered the rest of Duncan's question.

"It's mostly been work," he replied.  "That hasn't been too bad though, aside from what it always is. I've been Head of the Capture Unit for a couple of years now, and we've had a new Department Head since April -- he's been a hell of a lot more bleedin' reasonable about things than some of the others've been." 

It had been a relief when Alec Carter had come on with Level Four. The Department Head was no-nonsense and effective, and he had about as much patience with feel-good reforms as Kurby himself did.   Although others in RCMC were still chafing at Carter's leadership style, as far as Kurby was concerned, the entire department was running much more smoothly since he came on board.

But it was a bit awkward again to talk about Level Four with Duncan McBoid, who had made his continued distrust of the Ministry so evident back after the war had ended.  Kurby raised an eyebrow, studying the older wizard for a moment over the top of his glass. There was one easy way to find out if those bad feelings still lingered over a dozen years later.

"You ever miss any part of it?" he asked mildly.  "Workin' at the Ministry?"

"Every round?" That sounded about right. "If you weren't so eager to finish off this set of beer I'd have brought something with me." Duncan's side account, the one not related to the farm, could spare some booze money. "Next time, maybe." If there was a next time.

Listening closely as Kurby explained about his job Duncan nodded. "Delayed congratulations on the promotion, Bagnold. I'm glad to hear you're doing well." The sentiment was a sincere one. His distrust in the institution had no bearing on some of the people who worked there, at the very least those he knew. That included the Bagnold boys, even if he and Shay had a disagreeable falling out due to his altered mindset after the whole ordeal.

Duncan took a drink before responding, "If you're asking me if I ever thought about going back to work for the Ministry the answer is no. As for missing it, sometimes I do, aye. I did work there for fourteen years, after all. The place had been a second home to me as well as a familiar routine."

Not going back to Level Four once his brother was no longer self-destructive had been difficult. Having his eyes opened to the questionable areas and vulnerabilities of the Ministry, however, made going back impossible. Had he gone back he would never have been able to trust anyone, he'd have questioned every decision. Staying with his family had been the best decision.

"You get some down time in your busy schedule though, I hope? All work and no play can lead to a meltdown."

He hadn't wanted the promotion so that he could get congratulated.  He'd fought for it two years ago because everyone else who could have done the job was gone, and he'd thought that he was the best damned option to keep people safe.  That was probably a little prideful, but it was also realistic.  Once Bruce had been furryfied and Mainwaring had retired a second time, there wasn't anyone else who knew the field as well as he did, who could have juggled all of the strategy and tactics and logistics necessary to not only protect the public, but bring the other members of the Capture Unit home safely as often as possible, too.

Even so, hearing the congratulations from Duncan McBoid made him flash the older wizard a slight smile.  McBoid had been one of the steady hands during the war; one of the comrades that he had looked up to.  Kurby hadn't looked for any recognition, but in some ways, it was reassuring to get it.

He'd more or less expected the answer to his own question.  McBoid had made it clear more than a decade ago that he wasn't coming back to the Ministry.  Kurby wasn't about to argue with him about trusting the powers-that-be, but there was also something to be said for being one of those powers now, even if an extremely minor one.  If anything like Voldemort's takeover ever happened again, at least he was in a position where he could speak and act with just authority, instead of watching as everyone around him passively let it happen.

The other man's last comment made him pull back, blinking for an instant before his expression morphed into something between bemusement and perplexion. 

"I haven't melted down so far," he pointed out, arching a brow dubiously at Duncan.  He paused to take a swallow of beer, and then gave the Scottish wizard a shrug.  "Why?" he asked.  "You off havin' grand adventures during all of your travelin'?"

Duncan grinned at Kurby, amused by the expression he'd worn. "Not yet anyway, and that's a good thing." The future wasn't written out except by the choices people made. He took a drink and added, "Maybe you never will. Doesn't mean the possibility isn't there." For Bagnold's sake he hoped the lad never did.

"And sometimes, aye. My travels are work related but I enjoy seeing different places and meeting new people. I imagine you get hyper focused, paying so much attention to the job and details you can't enjoy any of it even during a new moon." He paused to consider the younger man. "Can't say I wouldn't do the same in your position, though." He had done the same during the war to an extent after all. Perspectives and priorities tended to change with lives on the line.

Duncan wasn't going to let Bagnold deflect his original question though. "So you really don't go out and have some fun from time to time?"

If he didn't watch Moira do that very thing almost every day he'd find it hard to believe. Fortunately she had a few friends that occasionally dragged her attention away to other areas not work related. He wondered if the wizard across from him had something similar. It didn't seem like he did.

This conversation had quickly devolved into a slightly uncomfortable discussion of his personal approach to life.  Kurby gave the older wizard a skeptical look as he raised his beer to take a sip.  A career of capturing werewolves didn't exactly lend itself well to enjoying one's profession.  And it wasn't as if he never went out.  The past couple of years, he'd simply started to enjoy spending quiet nights home at his flat more than he did going out and getting into drunken messes.

"Nah, never," he replied cheerfully.  "To be honest, McBoid, this is the first time I've even talked to anyone outside of the office in years, let alone had a beer with 'em."  He clutched a hand to his chest, slumping back in his chair for effect.  "It's just been a bleedin' endless cycle of sixteen hour days, come home, sleep, and then back to the office again, seven days a week."

Straightening once more, Kurby rolled his eyes and took another, longer sip of beer. 

"Work's fine," he said firmly after a beat.  "Most months have been pretty quiet, and the team we have right now's been alright."  He paused, flashing the Scottish wizard a sharp-toothed, wolfish smile.  "You want to check my social engagement calendar to make sure I'm gettin' out to your satisfaction or somethin'?"

Taking a drink of his own beer Duncan watched his host's performance. The younger wizard's joke was appreciated, but still another deflection. Apparently Bagnold deflected questions as easily as Duncan lied about his job. Both required some finesse and quite a bit of practice.

Duncan returned Bagnold's grin,"Depends what's on that social schedule of yours and if you'd expect to see mine in return. Maybe I just want to live vicariously through your younger bones for an evening."

The Scotsman didn't need to live vicariously through anyone. He stayed in fantastic shape and made sure his health didn't falter, except the time he had gotten sick with Dragon Pox and then got his brother sick too. Duncan told his brother he'd gotten it from someone at one of the tracks, but really he had gotten it directly from a young dragon. That particular case went to the ministry in the end once he was sure his name couldn't be attached in any way.

More or less satisfied with the knowledge that Kurby's life wasn't 100% work, the second deflection helped prove it, Duncan let that particular point rest.

"Any plans for the holidays?"

In some ways, Duncan McBoid reminded him a lot of his older brother.  It wasn't hard to understand why Shay and McBoid had butted heads after the end of the war.  Both had particular ideas about how one should live one's life, and they both apparently liked sticking their nose into his business to make sure that he was going about things according to whatever rules they'd decided to lay out for him.

At least McBoid's prodding seemed mostly harmless.  Kurby let the wizard's final comment pass with only a roll of his eyes.  He didn't particularly want to let the subject of his personal life drag out any longer than he had to, and so he'd take whatever change in subject that he could get.

"The usual family symposium on Christmas," he said with a shrug.  "I think my mother's hostin' this year."  The only time he hadn't gone home was back during the war, when it had been too dangerous for those of them who had stood up to the fallen Ministry to risk seeing family and bringing the Death Eaters' wrath down upon them.  That year, they'd all spent the holiday season on the run.

"What about you?" he asked the older wizard.  "I can't say I ever realized that you had a brother or a niece until the kid said somethin'.  I reckon the lot of you must spend Christmas together, then?"

Duncan nodded in understanding. Once upon a time he too had gone to large family gatherings during the holidays. His mom would scold him before it ever began for getting into a fight that hadn't happened yet. Now he didn't normally go no matter who hosted. Sometimes, though, he'd still drop in on the stray cousin from time to time.

When Bagnold mentioned not knowing he had a brother he let his shoulder rise and fall in half shrug. "I prefer to keep family and business separate as much as possible." Duncan took a drink and paused, catching what he said a moment later. "Before I joined in on my brother's business anyway.

As for Christmas, it's hard not to spend time together when we all live in the same house." Duncan shook his head. "Angus and our parents haven't been on speaking terms since before Moira was born. I talk to them sometimes but inevitably they start talking about how I'm becoming a disappointment too. You know, the whole not married to nice girl that's met their approval and not having a bunch babbies for them to spoil."

Growing up Duncan could never have imagined his family fracturing the way it had. Of course, things could always change again one day.

He had apparently shifted them onto an uncomfortable topic without realizing it.  Kurby blinked, then glanced carefully at the older wizard. 

For all of his griping about his family, he'd never been on anywhere near that bad terms with them.  Holidays meant uncomfortable conversations that grew increasingly more testy as the day went on, such as when he was settling down (he wasn't) or having children (never) or giving up the werewolf hunting thing (once he was dead or furry, which usually shut the asker up so long as it wasn't Shay).  But they were still conversations.  He might be a disappointment in a lot of ways, the same as Duncan appeared to be, but at least he was a tolerated disappointment.

"Rough bit, that."  He grimaced as he raised his beer to take another drink.  "Sorry, McBoid.  I didn't mean to hit on a sore subject.  That's the way of pureblood families, isn't it?"  He arched an eyebrow at the Scottish wizard.  "Sure seems like there'd be a bleedin' hell of a lot less drama in all of our lives if our great-great grandparents had just settled down with a Muggle instead, aye?"