Leaky Cauldron
Just after 2 PM
Following the events of Right Off the Shelf

They’d hardly been the only ones to duck out early from the Ministry that day.  The Leaky Cauldron was awash with boisterous seasonal cheer by the time Kurby and Blake had arrived, flooing from the Atrium.  The pub was practically packed to bursting with cheerful patrons, sharing toasts and loudly trading stories and best wishes for the holiday.  The air was spiced with cinnamon, cider, and cloves, and decorations abounded, with holly and ivy and mistletoe boughs lending hints of red and green to the decor.

There was a long wait for the bar, and Kurby was ready for a whole night’s worth of hard alcohol by the time he finally managed to elbow his way to the front and get the bartender’s attention.  But he had a long evening ahead of him, since he was due to meet Nemo in a few hours’ time, and so when he finally made his way back to the small table by the wall that Blake had snagged, he’d settled for only a beer.

“Merry Christmas,” he proclaimed sourly, depositing the spiced mead she’d requested in front of the Auror trainee.  Making a face, he took the chair across from her, adjusting his position so that he could watch the door and most of the pub all at once.

It had been too long of a week.  Kurby took an equally long drink from his pint glass, draining a good quarter of it in one extended swallow. 

“So what’s a small-town Christmas celebration like?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her as he finally lowered his glass again.  “Reckon you’re headin’ home to spend it with your family, aye?”

Fauna guarded the small table near the wall, draping her leg over the other chair and shaking her head whenever someone came close and gestured at it. She still wore her utilitarian Auror trainee boots, and bobbed her foot every so often, which was enough of a deterrent so far. Thank Merlin she'd escaped the office! It had been a good day, surprisingly so, with visits from both Virgil and Knox. Bagnold now too, though he'd clearly had a long day or long week.

Normally she'd feel awkward about sneaking out for a drink in the mid-afternoon with a coworker she rarely saw outside of work, and ok, she still felt a bit awkward, but it was just Bagnold, and the holidays were near, and they weren't the only ones. She glanced around, recognizing many from the Ministry. Her yellow coat hung on the back of her chair, and her patterned blouse wasn't too wrinkled after the shortened day at the Ministry. It was Friday! She felt a happy sense of belonging.

When Bagnold arrived, Fauna's face brightened at the sight of the mead, and she moved her leg off the chair so he could sit. Did he just scowl at her drink choice? She took the glass with a murmured thanks, sipping at it defiantly. As she leaned back, her eyebrows inched up as Bagnold drank a good portion of his beer.

Fauna opened her mouth to ask him what had happened, when he asked after her family.

Bagnold had remembered her small town! Bagnold was making small talk!

The look she gave him was cautiously pleased.

"Yeah, I'm heading to Devon tonight and crashing at my mum's house for, well, a whole week," she widened her eyes and glanced surreptitiously around as if the Time-Off gods would smite her for going on holiday. "I mean, I haven't had that much time off in a while, and never around Christmas. So I guess I'll have - I'm going to have free time," she sipped at her drink and hunched her shoulders in a smug shrug.

"Er, well, I'll still be helping my mum at the shop," she added, coming back down to earth. "And, uh, my sister will be in town for a few days and she'll probably drag me out caroling. I know," she lifted a hand. No smirking! "My gran participates in the local baking contest," Fauna let a smile twitch on her face. "What else. Oh, there's a craft fair in Rosemoor we're going to tomorrow. And my mum's fiance wants to go on one of the winter walks along the trails. Pretend to be outdoorsy," she smiled more fully. "I don't know if he realizes that his phone might not get a signal."

Her stepbrother knew better and had already complained about it, but he'd have to come along anyway.

"How about you?" She asked lightly. "Are you going to suffer through any family parties this year?"

It didn’t take much to get Blake chattering away about her small town Christmas, the family members that she was excited to see and all of the traditions that they’d partake in.  Kurby listened silently, sipping more slowly at his beer and cracking a smile at the mention of caroling.  He remembered that she was Muggle-born; she’d mentioned that her mother was getting remarried, and now she recounted details about the rest of her family members, clearly eager to spend time with them.

With all the rest of the world still spinning all around them, he could be glad for her that the kid was getting a chance to get away.  Blake was still too young, and she deserved to be able to leave the nightmare that had become their work behind for a little bit.

”How about you?" she'd asked him.  ”Are you going to suffer through any family parties this year?”

Kurby snorted, shooting her a rueful look as he took another swallow from his beer.

“Yeah, there’s no gettin’ out of that one,” he retorted, flashing.a quick grin. “I thought about tryin’ after the last full moon, but my mother would’ve finished the job that Tawse started.  Our extended family always gets together,” he clarified, stretching his legs out under the table and crossing one ankle over the other.  “Uh, Bagnolds, Whitmans, a few of the Cavanaughs, some others.  Ma’s hosting it this year, so my siblings and I are all required —“ He made a face, clearly communicating what he thought about this forced extended time with his family — “there by sundown tomorrow to help her get things ready.  Then the real fun begins when all the rest of the family arrive on Sunday.”

He cocked an eyebrow at the Auror trainee over the top of his glass, as he raised it to take another sip.  “I’m still plannin’ to use your line about my mother gettin’ remarried,” he said nonchalantly.  “If you manage to save my arse and get me kicked out before dessert happens, reckon I’ll owe you another drink.”

Fauna started to smile back, then blinked at the name Tawse thrown around so casually. Bagnold! She glanced around the pub in alarm, worried that someone had overheard. Um, Bagnold!

Though she was tempted to cast that sound-muffling spell, she resisted the urge, and tuned in to his description of pureblood family drama, which sounded not at all fun or relaxing. She'd heard about the Whitmans due to Abby's loyal complaining, and she recognized the Cavanaugh name as being prominent in the Auror corps, and therefore okay in her book.

Oh no, he had to help his mother! She gave him an extra amused, not very sympathetic look, imagining him scourgifying counters and scowling as he fetched extra chairs.

Then he said something odd.

"Hm, what?" She tilted her head and furrowed her brow. "Wait, my line?" Fauna raised her eyebrows, looking at him questioningly. "When did I say that? I didn't say that," she shook her head, the corners of her mouth inching up into a bemused smile. No! She wouldn't have made assumptions about his family like that, right?

All she remembered was that Bagnold had actually laughed once after some inane comment she'd made while they were investigating in Aberfoyle.

Maybe she had said that.

"Er..." Understanding dawned. She glanced to the side and sipped at her drink.

"I mean, that doesn't sound like me, poking into people's business and being idealistic," she managed with a straight face for all of a few seconds.

She smiled at him and took another sip, wondering what the rest of his family was like.

"So you have an escape plan. Where does that leave your siblings?" Fauna asked curiously.

Blake floundered, fumbling through her protests until she realized what he was referring to.  Kurby shot her a sharp grin over the top of his beer.  Idealistic was one way to describe the flouncy-haired Hogwarts student who had been such a pain in the arse a few years before.   Poking into people's business was certainly another.

Something flickered across the werewolf hunter's expression at her follow-up question, but it didn't last for more than a second before he schooled himself, sipping at his beer.

"My sister Rosheen's been better at gettin' kicked out than I have the past couple of years," he replied, with a hint of a smirk.  He arched an eyebrow at Blake over the top of his drink, raising it to take another sip.  "You two'd get along -- she dates Muggles instead of werewolves, but I reckon you would've run in the same circles if you'd been in the same year in Hufflepuff."

Flashing the Auror trainee an enormous grin in anticipation of the reaction that he was certain to goad, he took another long swallow from his pint glass.  "The other two'll figure it out for themselves," he said simply, rolling his shoulders back as he gave her a more considering look.  "How've you been holdin' up since the full moon?"

Miraculously, Bagnold didn't seem to mind when Fauna poked into his business, though he might have hesitated for a moment.

He had a sister?

Was she cool? Fauna bet she was cool. Wait, Bagnold thought they would have gotten along. Fauna peered at him over her glass, eyes growing wide.

"What? A Hufflepuff?" Fauna leaned back in her seat and looked around the pub for moral support. Why had he not told her that he had a cool and nice sister! Who liked, even dated muggles, and had probably grown up cheerful to counter Bagnold's grumpiness, and who didn't date werewolves, but what did that have to do with anything?

"Oh Bagnold," Fauna's face soured in a flash as she caught on, giving a grand roll of her eyes. The 'type' commentary again, stars save her.

She sipped at her mead, watching him warily for further commentary, her hand inching up to flip her hair over her shoulder, when he came out with it.

"Oh," her face cleared, and she set her glass down. She considered him, remembering how he'd checked in a few times over the past few weeks, and how he'd made an effort to find her today.

"I'm ok," she nodded.

She was here! It was Friday. The holidays, etc etc. It was easy to feel ok in this moment, in the warm pub, around people who were enjoying their time off.

"Er, the first week back wasn't exactly easy," she admitted, glancing to the side. He knew, right? The physical reminders, the mental reminders, the fear of looking at the sky and seeing the stars and moon blurred. She gave a slight tug on the collar of her shirt, subconsciously hiding the small scar.

"But one of the Aurors made sure I was ok, in her own way. She pretended we had a meeting and questioned me about my hospital visit," Fauna nearly smiled. "Um, and I talked to Tulo. The Healer on Level Two. She was kind, as always."[1]

Those at the Ministry had looked out for her, and outside of work, Fig had gotten her out of the house on Friday.[2]

"I mean, I think I'm ok, and it helps to know that people care," she said earnestly, including him with a gesture. It was the most important thing.

1.	Dust Yourself Off and Cold was the ground
2.	Damn Rough Life

The werewolf hunter laughed, flashing Blake an enormous wolfish grin in response to the exaggerated roll of her eyes.  Still grinning, he raised his beer to take a drink, shoulders relaxing as he leaned back in his chair.  It was satisfying to know that if he ever really wanted to push it, he could likely drive the trainee to give a melodramatic hair toss just as she had when she'd been an over-the-top teen at Hogwarts.

He hadn't really come to push her buttons, though.  Settling back, Kurby stayed quiet, sipping at his beer as she spoke.

Everyone reacted to unexpected pressure in different ways.  He'd checked in with everyone but Laz since the night of the full moon.  Fenneken still seemed angry, mostly about the vampire's presence.  Harris was confused.  Blake, he'd noticed, had seemed anxious and withdrawn.  But she also seemed to be recovering quickly.  It didn't surprise him that she'd talked to Nagde; the American Healer was practically a Seer when it came to anticipating where her support might be needed.

Blake's final statement was a bit too inclusive for his liking.  The werewolf hunter shrugged, his expression cool and nonchalant as he studied something over by the bar.

"You handled yourself well that night," he said matter-of-factly, eyebrows raising as he glanced back at her.  "I've seen full Aurors get into a mess like that and freeze up before.  But you figured things out with that spell and dealt with it."

Oh. Ok, Bagnold! Pretend you don't care about the underlings! Fauna glanced into her drink and bit her lip.

She glanced up quickly in surprise. Now he was complimenting her? She'd heard him say well done before, but it meant a lot, hearing it after the dust had settled. Though she was embarrassed that the battle had ended with her bleeding all over a medic, in the scheme of things that felt unimportant - people had died, she had survived.

"Thanks," she set her glass down, matching his matter-of-fact tone but unable to stop her expression from softening.

"If you and Laz hadn't been there - or I mean, if it hadn't been you, me, and Laz..." she trailed off. How to say that she appreciated him taking the brunt of Tawse's attack?

"Me figuring out the spell, Laz helping the muggles, you throwing shade," she grinned a little. He'd done much more than 'throw shade'.

"I don't know. I don't know if we all would have made it."

They'd gotten lucky, the three of them against two dark wizards and two wolves. They'd remained fully themselves, thanks also to Fenneken and Harris. She looked searchingly at Bagnold, wondering how he did it every month. Did it help, counting down the days to the next full moon, sending out patrols at a predetermined time, knowing that every time, someone's life could end or be changed forever? He trained for it just as Aurors trained for ambushes.

What he hadn't trained for was someone like Tawse. The ultimate bogeyman, the terror in the night.

"It's like Tawse got bored tormenting Level Two and decided to expand to Level Four," she shook her head ruefully, keeping her voice low as she took another sip of her drink.

That damn net spell.

Blake had wandered from one slightly unwelcome topic into another, and Kurby put some attention into draining half of his beer.  Just like he hadn't dragged her out here to have a conversation about caring, unless he was ribbing the trainee for how much she owed him, he also wasn't interested in debating who would or wouldn't have made it if Blake had stumbled onto the zoo mess all on her own. 

At least Blake had adopted a more casual tone.  Kurby shot her a fierce grin over the top of his glass as he lowered it back to the table again.

"Well, if you lot on Two would clean up your own goddamned messes instead of leavin' them for us," he countered nicely, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table.

But even taking digs at Level Two had lost some of its charm, especially considering the mess they were likely all in for.  Kurby let the topic drop, taking another quick sip of beer. 

"I got permission to offer a consulting job to Laz," he said, looking back directly at Blake.  He rolled his shoulders in a shrug and dropped his gaze again, seemingly focused on tapping his index and middle finger against the table in an alternating pattern.  "Reckoned that if he might show up again next time, it'd be better to make it official.  The last thing we need during a full moon is some goddamned idiot gettin' hot-headed and takin' a shot at him."

Fauna blinked, knowing nothing good could come after Bagnold's grin. As his comment sank in, her mouth opened in a little 'o' and she widened her eyes and nodded exaggeratedly. Level Two's fault! Of course! Silly her.

Bagnold seemed restless and a touch impatient, his fingers drumming against the table. He didn't like to sit still for long. Fauna saw that a lot around Level Two - Aurors glancing around and fidgeting, looking for the next adventure. Another thing Level Two and Level Four had in common.

She relaxed in her seat, then raised her eyebrows in surprise. Laz! Her face brightened, and she took a sip of her drink.

"Really? That's a good idea. I didn't even realize - well, I guess it makes sense, doesn't it? Vampires could help in the field just as much as they do sitting in a Ministry office."

More so, probably. And not vampires in general, but Laz specifically. And not just anytime, but during the full moon. Fauna nodded, mulling it over.

"I have a feeling he's going to show up again," she smiled slightly and knowingly at Bagnold. "Er, just a hunch. I, uh," she paused and glanced around the pub and leaned over the table slightly.

"I ran into him earlier this week, actually.[1] He was keeping an eye on Knockturn like some, I don't know, undead do-gooder. Night's watch. A night's watchman," she chuckled, then stopped and cleared her throat. "Sorry." Sorry, she'd save that joke for Harris!

"We didn't really get to talk because some creepy shite went down, but he stuck around and helped, you know? I think he really wants to help."

Fauna drew back and sipped at her drink thoughtfully.

"It wasn't any trouble getting permission?" She asked with a touch of envy. She could only imagine Pratt's reaction if she so much as danced around the topic.

1.	Little Tailor Shop of Horrors

Judging how frequently he'd run into the vampire when werewolf business meant that he was only out three nights in thirty, Kurby was unsurprised to hear that Lazarus been lurking about Knockturn at other times.  For all that Kurby had needled him about having a sense of civic duty, the American vampire clearly had an interest in the affairs of the living.  He wanted to help, and he'd done so even at risk to himself.

That made it all the more pressing to actually extend the consulting job to him, and try to get him more firmly under the Ministry's protection.  That would be a task for the following week. once the new moon was passed.

"Naw," he said, giving a quick shake of his head.  He shot Blake a smirk, arching an eyebrow at her.  "Hard to tell me I can't hire a vampire when my new boss is a werewolf, aye?"

Kurby leaned back in his chair, sipping at his beer, although a bit less vigorously this time.  There were still hours to go before he was supposed to meet Nemo in this same pub, and if he didn't slow down on his drinking, his planned entreaty for the little musician to avoid Grimshaw's Tailoring was likely not going to be very convincing.

"Where was it you ran into Laz?" he asked, glancing past Blake to regard the rest of the busy pub.  He raised his glass to take another slow sip.  "You lot weren't lookin' into anything related to Tawse, were you?"

Fauna let out a light snort, shaking her head at him. No, it should be easy, Bagnold, considering Bruce was his boss. The new Head of the Werewolf Wing deserved every consideration and respect that was allowed other Department Heads. Didn't matter if she was a werewolf, a vampire, or a hinkypunk. She was The Boss.

How was Bagnold handling that? Not only someone managing him now, but someone who happened to be a werewolf. Fauna would have to find a way to bring it up, if she felt like opening that can of worms.

Fauna paused, tapping her fingers once against her glass, a subconscious mimicking of his earlier restless habit.

"Er, no, we weren't. That's up to the Level Four clean up crew now," she managed with a straight face.

She was surprised he asked. He must be more worried about Tawse than he let on.

"We were just looking into some shop records," she let out a small sigh, twisting her mouth to the side. They hadn't found them, or any other sign of the ossuary.

Her hand drifted to her coat pocket before realizing she was sitting on her coat. She rested her hands on the table again.

"Um," Fauna said distractedly. She shook her head, picking up her glass. "Yeah so, he's not spooked by hundreds of spiders falling from the ceiling, or the floor giving out."

She was! She raised her eyebrows sheepishly over her glass as she took a sip.

Shop records.  The werewolf hunter's dark eyes flicked back over to her, regarding her coolly as he finished taking a sip of his beer. 

There were a million and one reasons why Level Two might be looking for shop records in Knockturn Alley, a million and one places where they might run into trouble.  But he knew at least one answer for both.  Nemo had shown up outside his flat at the beginning of the week, with news that she'd told her friend Abigail Reid everything at their misadventure at the tailor shop, and that Abigail had said that the Aurors were investigating.[1]

'Floor giving out' had an ominous ring to it, considering what had happened to him and the young American musician a couple of weeks before.  Had Blake and the Aurors been by Grimshaw's?  Had they found the ossuary that was hidden beneath the tailor shop?

If it was, he wasn't going to be able to pry too much more information out of Fauna Blake.  The Auror trainee was too sharp when it came to reading other people, as he'd seen firsthand when he'd dragged her along to Aberfoyle back during the summer, and she played her cards too close to her chest when it came to professional discretion.  But perhaps he could use the small bit of information he'd been given by Nemo to test for a confirmation.

Kurby gave a quiet snort.  "Sounds like your month has stayed busy," he remarked, giving the trainee a dry smile.  "That wasn't the mess Trevelyan was involved in, was it?" he asked conversationally, as he raised his beer to take another drink.  "He mentioned somethin' about trouble in Knockturn when we were talkin' yesterday."

1.	20 December - Spit and Vinegar, Daring and Pride

Fauna nodded emphatically. When would December be over?

"He mentioned the dress shop?" She lowered her glass, surprised. She hadn't known that Trevelyan and Bagnold talked to each other, and had a hard time picturing the chatty, kindly Trevelyan hanging out with cranky Bagnold. For some reason it made her glad, to think that one of the most trustworthy Aurors she knew was friendly with the only werewolf hunter she knew well enough to trust.

"It was the biggest mess, Bagnold," she sighed again, relaxed by the atmosphere of the pub and the promise of the holidays. "We get there, and it's fine at first, we're poking around, Laz wanders in like he's looking for new hats. He doesn't need one."

No, the hat he wore was very him.

"Then this light goes on at the back of the shop, right?" She hesitated, her usual cautiousness kicking in against the slight amount of alcohol she'd had.

But if Trevelyan had mentioned it to Bagnold, and Bagnold was going to talk to Laz anyway...

She took a sip of her drink, and lowered her voice to describe it.

"We go back there, and there's this really creepy doll propped up on the table - life-size!" Fauna pointed to herself. "Er, and I'm like hey guys, there's something glowing inside it, and I'm leaning in to look at it, and then there was a sound at the front of the shop where Laz was, and Trevelyan goes to look. Then boom!" She smacked the table. "The floor falls out from under Trevelyan, and the room starts to flood-" she took a breath and let it out.

"And then spiders," her eyes widened. "Spiders dropping from the ceiling. So many spiders. Spiders, even, from the doll," she pointed her finger in the air for emphasis. "Right where my face was."

Why did it all sound so ridiculous and unbelievable when she tried to explain it?

She sank in her seat, and let out a chuckle. "I'm serious. It happened. I don't want to go back there."

There was only one dress shop in Knockturn Alley.  That meant there was only one place it could be.

Kurby gave an easy shrug, confirming the lie.  That was about as much information as he expected to get; even when she'd been warning him about the situation with Gen, Blake had quickly buttoned her mouth and refused to tell him any but the most pertinent, general details.  But the Auror trainee surprised him by continuing to talk.

So Trevelyan had gone to Grimshaw's with Blake, and the two had been poking around.  Lazarus had stumbled upon them, and then they'd gone to investigate a strange light in the back of the shop.  No mention of a warm, sweet-smelling breeze; no mention of distant whispers or the main room alight to welcome them. 

The news left a strange sort of knot in his stomach, like some private, secret place that he'd been keeping just for himself had just been invaded.  But Trevelyan and Blake hadn't been invited in, not like he and Nemo were.  It lit up just for us, the little musician had said.  Listening to Blake's lively retelling of the incident now, it seemed like that was true.  The Aurors had been greeted by creepy dolls, spider invasions, and flooding rooms.  Even the mention of the floor falling out under Trevelyan didn't seem to include a connection to the mysterious ossuary.

Except it shouldn't matter, Kurby told himself, jaw tight as he took another drink of his beer.  People had died in the damned tailor shop.  Something or someone had been murdering young witches every twenty-eight years, and Nemo was about the right age to be the next victim.

Blake, he realized with a sudden, sickening start, was just about the right age, too.

That thought hit him like a stampeding hippogriff to the gut.  The werewolf hunter quickly looked away, raising his glass to take a long drink in hopes of masking his expression.  He'd brought a selection of the newspaper clippings with him today, intent on showing Nemo.  The girls who'd died had ranged in age from 18 to 22, and they'd all seemed to be half-blood or Muggleborn.  Just like Nemo, Blake was right in the thick of that group. 

And now, just like Nemo, she'd been to Grimshaw's, too.

"Well, maybe you should start thinkin' about a transfer to Four, then," Kurby quipped.  He took another swallow from his beer -- the glass was nearly empty now -- and then forced himself to look back at Blake, arching a sardonic eyebrow at her.  "At least with our work, the only ones who ever have to deal with spiders is Beasts.  You lot on Two don't get much say about what you come up against."