Monday, 12 December
16:36 PM
The Office of the Werewolf Capture Unit
Ministry of Magic

He hadn’t been sleeping at his desk, not exactly.  Kurby had been in the middle of reading the last round of reports from Sunday, scouring them for anything that seemed in the slightest bit useful before he finally headed out for the day, when he’d closed his eyes in the middle of one of Bellingham’s tediously descriptive paragraphs and decided to wait a few moments before he opened them again.

He’d been very possibly in the lightest stage of dozing -- in the middle of another dream that he’d never remember filled with warm breezes, distant laughter, and grinning skulls -- when the sound of his name being said very loudly and persistently jolted him back to the realm of the fully awake.

“Bagnold!”

The werewolf hunter started, straightening so quickly that he almost banged his head into the row of shelves over his desk.  Stacey Li was standing in front of him, looking impatient, as if she’d had to try more than once in order to get his attention.

”What?” he retorted, a little sharper than he’d meant to.

Li gave him a cool, impassive look.  She’d been with the Capture Unit for almost three years now, and in that time, she’d proven herself to be one of the more unflappable wixes on the team. 

”I need you to sign off on something with the prisoner,” she said, turning towards the door.  ”Can you give me a hand for a minute?”

That was unusual.  Eyebrows raised, Kurby rose to his feet, his expression otherwise impassive as he followed her out of the office and down the hallway.

The holding cells in the Werewolf Wing weren’t meant to hold prisoners for more than a few days, and they certainly weren’t private.  The recent run of incidents involving direwolves had made it necessary to find another place to clandestinely detain the lycanthropes involved. The Capture Unit had commandeered a couple of the isolation chambers in the Beast Division, which were usually used to hold sick magical creatures to stop disease or contamination from spreading.  That at least gave the WCU a secure place to hold their prisoners until they had finished their questioning and were ready to transfer them to Level Two.

The witch in the last isolation chamber along the row had been imprisoned here since early Sunday morning when they’d brought her in.  She was still young, maybe in her early 30s, with long curly black hair that fell past her shoulders.  Since she’d recovered herself once the full moon set, she’d barely said a word to them.  From what Kurby had observed during his short time watching her on Sunday, she’d seemed as if she were in a daze, although whether she was suffering from the results of some magic or was simply terrified, he hadn’t been able to deduce.

With Level Two’s help, they’d identified her as a recent immigrant to London, who worked odd jobs and had no previous record being a werewolf.  Li had volunteered to take the lead on questioning her.

Li stepped up next to him now, her dark brown eyes fixed on the female werewolf through the magical glass wall.  It was enchanted so that while watchful Ministry officials could see in, the “patient” inside only saw calm, soothing scenes of his, her, or its natural habitat.  For their current guest, it showed a sunny, sandy beach, with waves lapping gently against the shore.

”She finally started talking to me,” she informed him quietly.

Kurby studied her expression for a moment.  “Good.”  He arched an eyebrow at her.  “And?”

Li looked back at the enchanted glass, her gaze lingering on the werewolf.

”Most of it was as you’d expect,” she said after a beat.  ”She didn’t know how she got to the park.  Didn’t remember anything leading up to her transformation.  Claimed she didn’t know Tawse.  Couldn’t remember if she had taken a full run of Wolfsbane beforehand.”  She paused.  ”We’ll have to check with Level Two to find out for sure, but she’s showing all the signs of being Obliviated.”

Kurby listened silently, his eyebrows raised.  Without a word, he glanced back at the witch inside the small holding cell.  She had a sad, shabby look to her, as many werewolves did post-transformation.  Her appearance wasn’t helped by the baggy Ministry-issued gray robes that someone had given her to wear.  If it hadn’t been for his clear memory of the dead Muggles -- the harsh, metallic scent of blood all over the zoo’s cobblestones, the way that the werewolf had shaken the guard’s body like a rag doll -- he might have felt sorry for her.

Next to him, Li took a deep breath.  ”She did, however, remember where she’s been getting her wolfsbane potion from.”  Her mouth was set in a hard, firm line as she looked over at him.  ”She said she’s been acquiring it from Knox Greyfriar.”

The whole world seemed to stop.

Kurby’s dark eyes snapped over to her.  ”What?!” he demanded incredulously.

Li met his gaze, giving him a thin, humorless smile.  ”According to our new friend, apparently Headmaster Greyfriar occasionally offers his assistance to unregistered werewolves,” she informed him.  ”One of her friends tipped her off that he might be able to help her, and when she visited him a few full moons ago to patch up an injury, he offered to supply her with Wolfsbane potion.”

The werewolf hunter stared at her, the line of his jaw tight.  After a moment, he tore his gaze away and looked back at the werewolf inside the holding cell.

Goddammit.  Kurby ran both hands tiredly over his face.  If there was any way for this hell-cursed week to get even worse, it likely began by having the Werewolf Capture Unit accuse Knox Greyfriar, irritable werewolf-turned-Hogwarts Headmaster, of illegally distributing Wolfsbane potion to unregistered werewolves.  The second that news of this got out, it was going to be a public relations disaster like no other.

Hell, the second that news of this got out, Greyfriar was probably going to finish what Tawse had started and just hex Kurby’s head straight off.

Kurby swallowed, pressing his fingers against his forehead and dropping his gaze to the ground as he tried to think.  How the hell was he supposed to deal with this?  He didn’t know for sure that the information was true — and considering the source and the circumstances, they’d have to do their due diligence before approaching Greyfriar. But assuming that the werewolf’s claim was accurate….was that part of the point of all this?  Could Tawse have grabbed this particular werewolf to use for his trap simply to force a confrontation with Greyfriar?  To push the Hogwarts Headmaster’s illegal activities out into the public? 

Unfortunately, based on what he had seen of the big Scottish wizard so far, that sort of manipulation seemed pretty goddamned likely.

“Have you told anyone else about this?” he asked, looking at Li.

The younger witch responded by giving him a slightly offended look.

Kurby sighed and gave her a small, tight grimace by way of apology. 

“Redact this from your notes,” he instructed her, very quietly.  “In your report, state that we’ll be runnin’ down leads to try to find her wolfsbane potion supplier and leave it at that.  Level Two won’t care enough to follow up with us on it.”

Li was watching him carefully, but by the look on her face, he doubted that any of his instructions were unexpected.  She gave a very slight nod, barely inclining her chin.

”What about Greyfriar?” she asked, looking back through the magical glass at the werewolf again.

Kurby rubbed at his forehead.  This was a problem, but it wasn’t necessarily a now problem.  He could afford to get through the rest of the week, finish up the clean-up from Saturday’s full moon, deal with the Grant family’s trial, and then decide how to deal with Knox Greyfriar.

Whatever happened, he knew he didn’t want to just show up at Hogwarts and start flinging accusations at the wolfish Headmaster without knowing more.  He’d have to think through exactly what he wanted to get out of this.  He’d also have to think through exactly what he wanted Greyfriar to get out of this, if the werewolf was potentially being set up for exposure by Tawse.

“I’ll look into it,” he said after a long beat.

He turned to go.  Li seemed to hesitate for an instant, and then took a step back, looking after him.  ”It seems like there’s an awful lot of things that you’re taking on right now, Bagnold,” she said, giving him a searching look.  ”You sure you’ve got all this?”

Kurby blinked back at her for a moment, and then made a show of rolling his eyes.  “Yeah, I’m sure,” he grumbled, stepping around her to start back down the hallway. 

This wasn't going to be easy.  Greyfriar hated him.  The last time they’d had a conversation, the werewolf had instructed him to find the nearest cliff and throw himself off of it.  After the incident during the Ides of March back in 2009 and his niece Nicola’s recent complaints about how the furry Headmaster was politicizing his History of Magic class, Kurby didn’t exactly feel warm and fuzzy towards Greyfriar, either.  But if he passed this off to the Auror Office, that meant that everything had to be handled officially.  There would be forms to file, leads to run down, and more opportunities for the accusation to leak out to the public.  The Werewolf Capture Unit was under much less scrutiny than Level Two, and thus he had a bit more freedom to investigate and resolve concerns without making an official report.

First, though, Greyfriar was going to have to convince him that this was worth handling unofficially, and that his furry little side project of passing out presumably homebrewed Wolfsbane potion wasn’t putting any Hogwarts students or anyone else at risk.

He stopped at the end of the hallway and looked back at Li.  “Nice work,” he told her quietly.  “Leave me a copy of the transcript before you head out?”

Li was still watching him.  ”You don’t think you’ll be there when I’m done?” she asked after a beat.

Kurby shook his head.  “Naw,” he said, starting for the door.  This was earlier than he usually left the office, especially so soon after a full moon, and there was still plenty that he needed to do before he met with Moira McBoid the next morning.  Even so, it was clear that the rest of the week wasn’t going to get any easier.  “I’m goin’ home to sleep.”