Something dark flickered across the werewolf hunter’s expression, and he bared his teeth in a quick, fierce smirk.

“I’m not 'taking it to my superiors' because I’m not in the habit of jumpin' just because Cinaed Tawse tells me to,” he retorted sharply. 

This whole thing had left a hard, bitter taste in his mouth since the very beginning, ever since Li had first relayed what their prisoner had told her.  However he might have liked to let Knox Greyfriar suffer the wounds of his own ego, if the Werewolf Capture Unit accused the werewolf Headmaster of Hogwarts of supplying illegal wolfsbane potion to unregistered werewolves, it would set off a shockwave that would resonate far beyond the Ministry.  There were plenty of parents who were already unhappy with Greyfriar’s appointment.  If word of this allegation got out, there would surely be a firestorm.

That wasn’t what they needed, not now.  Not when the worst was still before them.  If it wasn’t for Tawse, he might have sat on the whole incriminating indictment altogether, might have just buried it and let it fade away, but with January's full moon mere weeks away, Greyfriar needed to know this now, too. 

Kurby swallowed hard, the line of his jaw tight, and met the werewolf's gaze squarely.

“Tawse treated the whole goddamned thing like it was practice.”  He kept his voice calm and even, but he couldn't help but give the last word a dangerous edge.  “He sat there takin’ notes like he was back in Hogwarts, askin’ us questions about why we were respondin' like we did.  He’s going to try it again.”  He flashed the werewolf a bitter, sardonic smile.  “And I can’t reckon he’s goin' to want to keep his pets hidden away in some almost-empty Muggle zoo the next time.”

Keeping up a stoic and unaffected facade was becoming difficult. Knox took a seat in the shabby, abused easy chair and rubbed at his temple. The Direwolves, the Ides of March, the werewolf fights, and now Tawse was at it again using as pawns some of society's most vulnerable. The werewolves he'd become acquainted with, even in anonymity, were scared already. Already taking great risk to protect their secrets. What more could they endure when it seemed like support from the Ministry was scant at best.

With Almasy dead there had been a sliver of hope, that perhaps they could relax and go about their business again. Knox, by his stature, was probably the safest werewolf in Britain and he knew his privilege well and made use of it as often as he could. But he was still vulnerable in some ways. It would take some doing for him to admit it, but the WCU was necessary. Stars forbid more were harmed by the curse. It was just that fear did nothing to bring werewolves out of the shadows. Which meant they were in more danger than others.

Like the sorry soul in Bagnold's photo. Like Horatio Higgins. Knox looked up then, his brows furrowed in accusation

"This, this was weeks ago. Why haven't we been warned?"

'We' was doing a lot of work in his question. If Tawse was planning another incident he must surely already be making preparations.

Greyfriar sat, fingers to his graying temples.  The werewolf looked as if he were hovering dangerously near an edge, with uncertainty quivering just under the surface. 

Part of Kurby wanted to keep going at him. If he followed his instincts, he’d push hard, try his damnedest to get the older wizard to break. If he could trip Greyfriar up, make him mad enough to snap or lash out at him instead of clamming up, maybe he’d even be able to get something useful out of this madness: knowledge about other unregistered werewolves, information about whatever Greyfriar did that had brought a trusting Savvina Katopodis to his door. There was no reason to think that the assistance that the Hogwarts Headmaster had given to the Greek werewolf had been a onetime occurrence; no way that she would have gone to him merely through happenstance.

But that wasn’t why he’d come tonight. The identity of any other unregistered werewolves, incriminating information on the Headmaster, knowledge of where Greyfriar had gotten the potion or its ingredients from: none of that mattered in the short term.  And so the werewolf hunter stepped back, jaw set, and waited.  Waited for Greyfriar to recover and catch his breath.

Of course the other wizard came back at him with an accusation.  Kurby shot him a look, dark eyes quickly narrowing.

“I don’t do public relations,” he shot back tersely. “Is that we referrin’ to you and Hogwarts, or you and the other unregistered werewolves besides Katopodis that you’re giving Wolfsbane to, then?”

They'd arranged themselves in nothing short of an interrogation pantomime. Kurby standing over Knox, a single lantern casting long shadows on long faces. The tableau was completed by the script.

Knox had been arrogant, and it was catching up. Without changing his posture, Knox lifted his gaze under his dark heavy brow to look at the slightly built 'house guest'.

"A true civil servant," Knox nipped back.

"I should think everyone," he continued flatly. "Including those most at risk, but what do I know?"

In so much as Knox was a secret-keeper, he wasn't not, typically a liar. Not for many long and hard-earned honorable years. It was an easy enough principle when it was only his own skin at stake, but he'd been weaving his life into others'. The risks and rewards of the truth only intensified. That, and Knox well knew the perils of lying to The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It took, what? A stiff breeze to give the WCU grounds for detainment?

That all said, flat denial of Bagnold's fishing expedition was not strategically sound, especially since he didn't know what Katopodis had told them.

"Oh, dear." Something seemed to have just occurred to Knox and he pushed himself to standing in the close cottage, crossed his arms, and peered at Bagnold. 

"Am I misapprehending your purpose? Is this your warning?"

The werewolf countered his retort with some cheek of his own, but he also didn't outright deny the allegation.  That as much as anything was reason to believe that there was truth in the indictment.  Greyfriar had to have connections with other unregistered werewolves; he likely was providing several others with wolfsbane, just like he had for Katopodis. 

But then Greyfriar seemed to have another thought.  He pushed himself to his full height, crossing his arms and staring down at Kurby.  Normally, the werewolf hunter might have backed up a step, but this was different than a confrontation in the Headmaster's office, different than when the ursine wizard snarked at him in the Ministry: this shadowed retreat might have been Greyfriar's place too, designed to let the big werewolf pretend he was back home safely in his cottage as he approached the hairiest time of his month, but there were woods all around it. 

For once, though, Greyfriar didn't seem intent on intimidating him.  The werewolf peered at him with something closer to concern, as if it had only now occurred to him that there might be another purpose to this encounter.

"Am I misapprehending your purpose? Is this your warning?"

Several beats passed as Kurby regarded him silently.  Carefully, deliberately, he looked away from the light being thrown by the floating lanterns, the shadows masking his expression.

He could have brought all this to Ballentyne.  Could have brought it to Carter, even; the involvement of the Hogwarts Headmaster in an apparent illegal scheme certainly warranted the attention of their Department Head.  But there were some things that were more important than winning the point against Greyfriar.  The Werewolf Capture Unit couldn't drag every unregistered werewolf out of the shadows. There had to be an entire legion like Savvina Katopodis, managing their condition well enough to keep the public safe but still at risk to enemies like Tawse.

He'd never be able to find them all.  But someone like Knox Greyfriar had a better chance at penetrating the circle.

"If anyone else disappears before the next full moon, I need to hear about it," he said at last, gaze flicking back to the werewolf.  "That's the only thing I'm askin' you for."

Knox curled his lip, his expression still a mixture of his shock and disappointment. Bagnold made it seem that somehow Knox was responsible for what happened to Katopodis and that should anything happen again to any other unregistered werewolves, well then, Knox should have called the werewolf hunters. Of course, Knox hadn't seen Katopodis since he'd first met her and hadn't ever expected to. Such was the same with almost everyone he and Hannah had met. He and Hannah were, to use the parlance, the Goddamn Hour of Need not the hub of some kind of community.

But explaining the nuances of their legally grey, morally lofty, definitely risky endeavor to Kurby Bagnold here and how would accomplish nothing good. It seemed for this cold second they were in truce. A stalemate, maybe. Knox would puzzle out why later. Bagnold had the power here; the only reason Knox could fathom that Bagnold wouldn't go to his bosses was that he needed him. Maybe he truly felt Knox was a conduit to warn a group of people the Werewolf Wing couldn't reach.

But all that aside - and Knox was very aware of his long and thoughtful delay in responding - Knox Greyfriar wasn't the sort who conjured sparks for the Aurors let alone the WCU, not unless he thought adding piles of silver and extra-legal detainment authority to an already tense situation would be an improvement. The idea of siccing werewolf hunters on a missing person made him frown.

He did so and kneaded at his brow. Bagnold's request hung in the air, still. 'That's the only thing I'm askin' you for.' The only thing, he said.

Of all the things Bagnold was, Knox had never evaluated him as sneaking or devioius. He said what he wanted. It might have been easy to infer this request as condition for keeping his name out of it, but that didn't seem very Bagnold-like.

In the end, all Knox came up with was a tired shrug and clear eyes.

"That I can do."

His words hung between them in the air for a very long time.  Kurby stayed silent, his face impassive, as Greyfriar mulled over his request.

He was never going to get names out of this conversation.  Kurby knew that.  With enough pressure and legwork, the WCU might be able to discover one or two other unregistered lycanthropes who had come to the Hogwarts Headmaster for help, but even that evidence was only of limited usefulness.  The Ministry didn't need a war with Hogwarts right now; it didn't need more reason to force unregistered werewolves back into the shadows. 

Asking to hear if someone else went missing was one of the milder demands that he could have made.  Even if Greyfriar acquiesced now, it still might not happen.  But at least delivering the request set more wheels in motion so that if what had struck Savinna Katopodis back in December happened again to another of her unregistered kin, someone might notice.  For now, that was the best he could hope for, nudging the scales a little bit more in the right direction.

Finally, Greyfriar looked back at him.  The werewolf somehow looked more weary than he had moments before, even a bit older than usual, but his gaze was still bright.

"That I can do."

The werewolf hunter's brows lifted, and he regarded Greyfriar for a long moment.  Finally, he glanced one last time around the minimally furnished cottage, awkward in its near-emptiness, and then he turned towards the door, back to the much more comfortable darkness waiting in the woods outside.