20 December 2011
Tuesday, 7pm
Kurby Bagnold's first floor Diagon Alley flat
Three days before Nemo was to meet Kurby in the Leaky Cauldron.

Nemo had stewed all day, sat on a stoop across the street from the address Kurby Bagnold had given her the day before.[1] It was cold, but she was dressed for it. Her wide brimmed hat kept the moisture off. She left her station a few times, finding some excuse to walk past the entrance to Knockturn Ally. Getting a bite to eat or a cup of coffee. She was a grim little gargoyle in the hustle and bustle of holiday revelers. She usually liked this time of year, but today all of them annoyed her.

She couldn't stop thinking about Abby and the file and the dead girl. There hadn't been time to wait until Friday. Abby could have already spoken to the Aurors, they might already have gotten to Kurby. She knew she might've been able to find him in the maze of the Ministry, but she wanted to get out of there as soon as she could.

Hours passed the sky darkened and she never saw Bagnold. She reckoned he must have come home another way. Floo, Apparition, back gate. A clock tower chimed seven; he had to be home by now. She got up from her perch and crossed the street and let herself in the big front doors. It looked like the entrance must have been a stable or tunnel passage way, now converted into apartments.

In a few more moments she was at the door with his number on it. She started pounding on it.

1.	19 Dec 2011 - Holly and Ivy, Wood and Stone

For a Tuesday right before the holidays, this day had felt particularly like the worst sort of Monday.  The changes to the Werewolf Wing’s administration were not what he wanted to deal with just before the end of the year, especially not when the last full moon had left the Werewolf Capture Unit with plenty of problems all on its own.

Kurby had finally left the Ministry just after seven, after spending most of the day buried in paperwork and planning.  He’d apparated back home and begun to climb the six short flights of stairs up to his flat.  On days like this, there was nothing he looked forward to more than locking himself away for the night, drinking a couple of beers, and pretending that work didn’t exist until he had to face it again the following morning.

But his floor wasn’t empty when he reached the landing.  Kurby heard the banging before he spotted her — a short, witchy figure with shaggy blonde hair, knocking vigorously on his door.

The werewolf hunter stopped short, eyebrows raising as he assessed the situation.  Nemo hadn’t struck him as the sort to cry wolf about anything — that was part of the reason why he had given her his address to begin with instead of figuring out some other way for her to get in touch with him if she needed.  But with everything going on with Tawse and Grimshaw’s and everything else, he couldn’t help but feel wary at stumbling upon an unexpected visitor.  He didn’t think that the teenaged witch was anything but what she appeared to be, but his instincts had been wrong before.

“I might’ve rethought givin’ you my address if I knew you were plannin’ to take it as an invitation to drop in regularly,” Kurby interjected, interrupting the knocking.  A slight frown crossed his face as he faced the young American witch, his left hand not quite drifting towards his wand.  She looked like herself, but with magic, that didn’t really mean much: any visitor could be Imperiused or Polyjuiced or worse.  “What’s goin’ on?”

Nemo spun around like she was annoyed Kurby had interrupted her knocking. She didn't brighten or quiet at his arrival, just shrugged angry and shook her head.

"We're blown. We're freaking blown."

She felt lost, she'd fouled it up, and now she was going to have to explain it all to Mr Understanding. When he didn't come over and unlock the door immediately, she pointed at it with two hands like she was a living street sign.

"Unlock it. I don't wanna talk out here."

She took a step back, just enough that she could lean against the door frame. Her leg bounced impatiently. Waiting all day had been plenty of time to try and think of a new plan, including contingencies of what to do if a) the Aurors already had talked to Kurby, or b) if they would, and c) the Aurors found her.  Oh, she was sure it would all start out perfectly innocent, but all that had to happen for Aurors to get testy was denying them even a shred of deference. Or at least, that's what she'd learned from cops from before, Omaha's magical patrol. She'd never met an actual English Auror. She exhaled sharply from her nose. Not that it mattered.

The worst part of all this would be never finding out. If the Aurors looked into it, she'd be sidelined and that file would disappear just like the one she'd tried to find.

"C'mon," she urged more quietly.

”We’re blown.  We’re freaking blown.”

Kurby opened his mouth, and then shut it again, looking perplexed.  They were...what?  Brows knitting, he frowned at the kid, trying to reason through what the hell she was talking about.  When he’d left Nemo the day before, they’d agreed to meet up on Friday at the Leaky Cauldron.  She’d been off to try and get a casefile from someone that she knew at the Ministry, and he’d offered to go dig through what records he could to try and find out more about Grimshaw Tailoring and Alterations.

Nemo was clearly upset about something.  She’d quickly moved on to urging him to unlock the door so that they could discuss things further inside.  That put him on edge, if this entire encounter hadn’t been sending off warning signals already.  The werewolf hunter stayed where he was, his expression impassive as he regarded her for a long moment. 

“What’d I tell you to do, the first time that I met you?” he asked, dark eyes coolly examining her.

Nemo stared at him. Then glanced away to scoff. What was that supposed to mean? Kurby was just standing there like he didn't know her, keeping his distance. Maybe the Aurors had got to him. She reflected back his furrowed-brow wariness.

Like, what kind of question was that? Did he think he'd dropped some pearl of wisdom and that if she recollected it her problem would be solved? She did not understand this man. He had to be the most guarded person she'd ever met in her entire life and it was becoming a barrier in their bizarre relationship. Fine. She's play his little quiz, get it wrong, then he would tell her, and then they could get on with it.

She sighed, and placed her hand on her chest. In her most sarcastic sweetness, she said, "Always be true to yourself, Nemo."

Then immediately, the girl let her face drop back to a nominally tolerant teenager's weaponized blandness.

"No, you invented a curfew just for me. What is this? 'I told you so'?" She kicked once at the base of the door impatiently.

There was no way that anyone associated with Cinaed Tawse could ever match that level of teenaged insolence.  Kurby gave her a sharp look for kicking his door as he stepped forward, freeing his wand with his left hand.  He touched the tip of the wand to the door, taking a moment to deactivate his wards, and then pulled out the key to unlock the door.

He held the door open for Nemo, following the kid inside and locking the door behind him. 

The inside of the werewolf hunter's flat was neat and orderly.  The front door opened into the main living area, which was simply furnished with a small sofa, a wooden coffee table, and a dark blue arm chair.  Off to the side sat a wooden desk; it had a few metalworking tools scattered across its surface, and an old framed photo, showing an animated group of five youth posing before the camera.  Next to the desk was a tall bookcase, which looked to be filled mostly with informative volumes on defensive enchantments and charms.  A large window across from the sofa looked down onto the streets of Diagon Alley, a good five stories below.

"You want a, uh --"  Kurby hesitated, mentally running through a list of all the beverages he had to offer a guest that weren't alcoholic.  "-- glass of water?" he finished, a bit weakly, as he headed through an open doorway into the flat's small kitchen. 

Whether or not his guest was potentially underaged, there was no goddamned way he was getting through this evening without a drink. With a flick of his wand, he summoned one of the beers that Gen had left for him, and then a clean glass to accompany it. 

Nemo took it in. He lived alone, she could tell, and his decorating was as stoic as he was. The workbench was unexpected, but she remembered his silver chain. Tool of his strange and ethically ambiguous trade. Werewolf hunter. They could probably come up with a less dehumanizing name... But whatever. There were bigger things brewing.

She set her bag down on the table and pulled out a chair. She peeled off her outer layers until she was in the short sleeves of her expertly frayed t-shirt. It simply said 'witch' on it. Kurby offered her water awkwardly.

"Yeah, thanks."

While Kurby was in the kitchen, Nemo dug in her bag for her tin of gillyweed. She leaned back in the chair and lit the joint. She needed to calm down, try and think clearly. She felt loads safer here. That and she knew, out of everyone, Kurby knew what happened. He believed her because he was there. He'd take her seriously and she didn't have to explain or think she was crazy because he understood. She took a long draw and closed her eyes; just the smell was soothing.

"You're rather paranoid," she said, assuming he could hear in the next room. "What was that just now, dude? You thought I was a doppleganger?"

The werewolf hunter was quiet as he vanished the bottle cap, and then tilted the glass, carefully pouring the beer into it.  He tossed the empty bottle into the rubbish bin, and then grabbed a second glass, filling it up with water from the tap.  With a drink in each hand, he headed back into the main room.

The kid had made herself at home, even lighting up a joint.  Kurby shot her a look for smoking in his flat, but decided it wasn't worth snapping and starting a fight over.  He set the water down in front of Nemo, and then lowered himself to sit on the left-hand side of the sofa, taking a long sip of his beer.

"There was a bit more to last weekend than just our adventure on Friday night," he said at last, refocusing on Nemo. 

He didn't really want to get into it; he'd spent the past week and a half at work worrying at the problem that was the January full moon, and he still didn't totally know what the hell he was going to do about it.  But recounting the story over and over again wasn't going to do anything but make him feel exhausted.  Even if his quiet night at home was clearly getting set aside in favor of helping Nemo with whatever new crisis had arisen, at least this was a new problem to deal with.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked bluntly, regarding her over the top of his beer as he raised it to take another sip.  "What'd you mean by 'we're blown?'"

Allowing Kurby his vague answer concerning his suspicious greeting, Nemo let her curiosity lie. She probably didn't want to know. If it was about Grimshaw's he'd have told her. Otherwise she had enough to worry about. She watched as he got settled in his own home, beer in a glass, his side of the couch. Kurby's pointy little glare about her gillyweed didn't go unmarked, but he was cool enough to just let it go. He had his vice, she had hers. They both had too much on their minds, relatively.

He wanted to get to the point she'd been so desperate to talk about.

"I'm fine. I went to see my friend at the Ministry to get that case file, you know, the dead girl. She works in the MLE and said she could help, but when I told her what I needed she froze up on me."

Nemo tipped the chair back to balance on two legs, shut her eyes for another draw.

"She wouldn't even let me see it. Got all professional ethics on me, and was quizzing me on why I needed it, why you weren't with me, why we hadn't talked to Aurors about it... I mean I get it, right? I get it. She didn't want to get in trouble, but who was going to tell, right?"

Lip curled in regret and frustration, Nemo shook her head. Then she tipped back forward, her eyes wide, "And then she's talking like she's going to bring an Auror in right then, that she'd already told them and that they're already investigating."

She laughed mirthlessly. She flourished the gillyweed. "Thus blown."

Then she coughed, and took a drink of water.

Kurby settled back against the sofa cushions, listening silently as he sipped at the beer.  It sounded like Nemo's escapade to get the case file had gone about as well as one might expect, if at a slightly quicker pace than he had predicted.  He cocked a brow as she ran through her friend's inquiries -- 'why you weren't with me' in particular stuck out -- but kept his mouth shut, staying quiet until she had finished.

There were a dozen questions he might have asked her: who the hell her MLE friend was; what the hell she'd told this mystery MLE girl exactly, especially as it concerned him; whether or not it was an American thing to act overconfident and go running one's mouth off. In a lot of ways, this was probably his own fault for not laying into Nemo about being discreet like he had with Figaro a few days before.  Apparently, for all of their over-the-top concerns about not ratting out or being ratted out by their friends, teenagers were really bleeding awful at keeping important events to themselves.

He took another drink from his glass, mentally weighing his options.

"And what are the Aurors investigatin', exactly?" he inquired at last, his brows furrowed.

Nemo took off her hat and ran her fingers through her hair, bundling it up into a high messy knot. Kurby didn't seem as worried at she was. That was saying something considering how jumpy he was at a cell phone on vibrate, not to mention her running off down Knockturn that night. A good sign, perhaps. Maybe he knew better about how the Ministry worked. Maybe things weren't as dire as Nemo thought. She swallowed a lump in her throat, now worrying if she owed Abby an apology. But no. Nemo's expression darkened. She'd needed help and Abby hadn't. Not even a little.

Kurby asked what the Aurors would be looking into. Nemo sighed and stood up from the chair.

"Hell if I know."

She walked into the kitchen and started opening cabinets.

"Abby told me that Aurors had already been to Grimshaw's and that something went down. Do you have any food?"

All she'd had today was coffee - she'd had plenty of opportunity to eat properly but was too distracted by all this trouble that she hadn't taken the time.

“Uhh...”

There was a lot of information being batted around very quickly, not the least of which was the fact that Nemo had apparently decided she had the right to wander around his flat like it belonged to her.  After such a stressful day at work, he felt like it was hurting his brain to try and keep up with all of this. 

Rolling his eyes upwards towards the ceiling, Kurby shoved himself back to his feet and followed her into the kitchen, his beer still in hand.

“Y’know, just because I let you inside doesn’t mean I was invitin’ you to make yourself at home,” he grumbled, giving the kid a sour look.  “Do you do this every time someone makes the mistake of allowin’ you inside their flat?”

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, he took another extended drink of his beer, and then set the glass down on the counter.  He’d been planning to make dinner anyway, and as long as Nemo didn’t eat as much as Figaro, he could probably afford to share. 

Kurby flicked his wand, summoning the ingredients for pasta one by one and lining them up on the counter in front of him.  He caught the last item — a head of garlic — in his hand, and then tossed it at the American teenager.

“If you want to eat, then you can help.  Mince that,” he instructed her, as he turned to fill a pot with water.  He’d been mulling over her last comment for a minute now, trying to piece together anyone from Level Two who matched the name that she’d dropped.  “Was this Abby who told you about the Aurors Abby Reid?”

Nemo blushed when Kurby called her out on being a little shit. She was usually a very good guest, keeping all her things organized, doing the dishes - anything possible to respect others' space. Why it is she'd let that all slip to the wayside, she didn't know. She leaned back against the counter

"My bad," she muttered flatly, genuinely contrite under her agitation. Without being asked, she extinguished her gillyweed with her wand and slid both into her pocket. She'd not expected a proper dinner. She'd figured on, like, an orange or a bag of chips. But no, she could help; she liked cooking and an actual hot meal would not go unwelcome, at least for the fact that it would take some time.

She caught the garlic and found a cutting board and kitchen knife.

Then, Nemo looked over at Kurby realizing that he knew Abby. He'd been the topic of some teasing that cathartic night.[1] Abby seemed to have his number dubbing him the 'grouchiest Bagnold', but hadn't warned her off him as girls were always ready to do if necessary. She couldn't decode his reaction.

"Yeah, that Abby." She turned back to the garlic, half feeling that she had to explain herself.

"I didn't know she was going to tell the cops. Aurors. Whatever. I told her about it right after it happened. I was freaked out. I didn't think she'd tell."

It wasn't like it was a secret. She didn't mind that Abby shared it, but law enforcement would just complicate anything.

"Has anyone talked to you? You didn't go back...?" Nemo was still worried, for some reason, that he'd go back without her, and now she like she'd messed up with him.

1.	10 Dec 2011 - Tale and Tune, Saga or Song

Oh, hell.  What would have been an inconsequential connection a week ago suddenly had the potential to make his headache even worse.  Although he didn’t really care about brushing off the Aurors if he had to, the last thing he wanted to deal with right now was having to explain to Iona Ballentyne why he’d set a street kid on trying to borrow a confidential file from Solomon Carstairs’ personal Squib assistant.

“You talked to the personal assisant of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and you didn’t think she’d tell the Aurors,” Kurby said flatly, giving Nemo a Look over his shoulder.  At least the kid had gotten to work chopping after he’d given her a task.  Sighing, he shook his head, turning back to move the pot of water onto the stove.

“You want a life lesson to quote at me next time, there’s one for you,” he informed her as he pulled out his wand again to light the burner underneath.  “Most people solve problems based on what they know.  If you’re surrounded by MLE like that, then your first tool is always the Aurors.”

When it came to cooking, he could have probably enchanted kitchen instruments to do most of the preparation for him, but there was something relaxing about doing some of the work himself.  Just like with metalworking, it gave him something to focus on, something to do with his hands to keep himself occupied.  Kurby vanished the lid on a jar of tomato sauce and dumped it into a saucepan, and then grabbed a few fresh tomatoes to chop up himself.

“Aye, I’ve had plenty of time to go admire underground bone collections in the past twenty four hours,” he said at last, as he began to dice the tomatoes.  “Squeezed it in right in between sleepin’ all last night and then havin’ to spend the day dealin’ with my new werewolf boss.” 

He was quiet for a moment, focused on his task, and then finally shook his head.

“Nobody’s talked to me,” he said, glancing up at Nemo.  “Did Abigail mention which Auror’s been on this, then?”

Nemo's eyeroll could have shifted the planet's orbit. It had been a very long time since she had to deal with old arrogant white dudes and had forgotten how exhausting it was. Since coming to London a year ago she'd been able to choose her company, but she and Kurby had been pushed together. The last thing she was craving was a lecture. She let him tire himself out - telling her off had to be hard work.

"I don't remember. Something super British. Look," she left the garlic and turned around. "You don't have to be a prickly dick one hundred percent of the time. Really, take a break."

The way Kurby explained it all just highlighted how new she still was to the workings of London's magical society. It was so small and centralized and the Ministry was deeply involved with everything. She was worn down and he was getting to her.

"What are we going to do?" she asked with a more agreeable tone.