A thick fog had settled over the green highlands of Scotland, making the grass glisten with captured dew. The air felt wet and heavy as they'd apparated onto the road a bit away from the little farmhouse, as if the rain were threatening to make a fateful return at any moment. They wouldn't want to linger long as they made their approach.

It had been a week since the incident at Iona McBoid's grave.[1] It had taken several days of back and forth exchanges with Duncan McBoid to settle on a date and time to speak with Donnan's nephew, who may or may not have visited the grave himself earlier that year. But there didn't seem to be a reason to antagonize the winged horse breeder by forcing the issue, and so Jonas had cooperatively agreed to set an appointment.

Fauna Blake had taken a personal interest in the pentral case, perhaps owing to her friendship with Abby Reid. The black-clad trainee -- practically an Auror in her own right now, with her red-robed promotion only a few short months away -- had quickly offered to join his visit to interview Duncan McBoid. Jonas had been cautioning at first: for all her talents, Blake had a habit of relying too much on her personal relationships with others in the magical community for her investigations, of letting the private and professional parts of her life mix a little too closely. But in the end, he'd acquiesced, although he's still given her a quiet warning.

With the thickness of the fog, though, it was helpful to have someone along who knew the way to the cottage. Jonas let Blake lead the way up to the door, and then stepped in to knock. 

It didn't take long for the entreaty to be answered.

"Mr McBoid?" Jonas asked, flashing a quick smile the man who had opened the door. The other wizard stood several inches taller than he did.  He was lean and fit, with the look of someone who spent most of their life working outdoors.

The Auror offered his hand. "Jonas Trevelyan," he said easily, by way of introduction. "And this is Auror Trainee Fauna Blake, who I believe you've met before, yeah?"

1.	February 19, 2012 - The Grave

There were several reasons why Duncan McBoid didn’t want the Ministry to know about his fight with Lorelai Hunt the first night of the new year. He also didn’t want his family to know and even after the gathering at Kurby’s flat the Scotsman felt both points were relatively safe. Several steps had been taken to better ensure the outcome.

Then came February, the month of ‘love’ as it were, and all the horrors it decided to bring. A week ago the McBoids had gotten quite the surprise when Moira suddenly couldn’t talk. Thanks to the staff at St. Mungos, they had been able to work out that the young witch had been cursed. With a potion and the simple practice of talking she’d be back to normal in no time. They didn’t know Moira.

After that rather long night of waiting, Duncan had gone to Donnan’s home the next day in Diagon to hear the story from a more helpful, and capable, mouth. The older McBoid, bless him, had told him everything. In doing so, he had provided his nephew a viable reason for his warning should the Ministry want to follow up with him, and the younger Scotsman was certain they would.

When the first letter arrived, Duncan was grateful for Auror Trevelyan’s willingness to settle on an appointment time. It made it easier to be certain that his brother, uninvolved in all of this so far, would be out of the house.

The auror was prompt.

Duncan offered the man a friendly smile and shook his hand, “Please, call me Duncan. Too many ‘Mr. McBoids’ in my family, I’m afraid.” Looking past him to the trainee he dipped his head in greeting, “Miss Blake, It’s a pleasure to see you again. Come inside,” he offered to both of them, holding open the door to allow them passage out of the gloomy weather and pressing fog.

Had this been a social call he would have offered them something to drink. It was not, so instead he offered them a warm place to sit near the fire, taking a seat in one of the chairs himself. Deciding to start things off, the Scotsman asked, “Have you found any leads?”

"It's good to see you too, Duncan," Fauna smiled, taking a seat near the fire. In the struggling daylight streaming through the windows, the cabin still looked and felt cozy, a sanctum against the temperamental Scottish weather. Glancing around, Fauna noticed some of the homely details she'd missed that one evening she'd sneezed her way into the fireplace to check on Moira.[1] She had asked Moira then, unofficially, if the McBoids had gotten any unexpected visitors or seen anything strange on the farm since the werewolf incident in December, and Moira had responded no, they hadn't.

But February had brought with it new threats.

Fauna straightened her black trainee jacket, her notebook shifting in her pocket. Duncan McBoid was as friendly as he'd been in early January, shortly after the McBoids had lost Iona and any hope of Iona remaining with them. Despite the horrors recently left at Iona's grave, neither Duncan's manners nor his gregariousness had slipped, at least in these first few minutes of inviting Aurors into his home. If he were dismayed at seeing Moira's friend return in an official capacity, he hid it well. Fauna felt relieved. His polite manner would make it easier to do her job. The last thing she wanted was to let Jonas Trevelyan down.

Duncan wasted no time asking a reasonable question. Fauna glanced at Trevelyan, always appreciative of his social skills, but happy to speak first.

"I can tell you that we looked into the curse on the tree, to start," Fauna said seriously, a trace of sympathy in her tone. "And we looked into several of the other things left at the grave, and we've been able to trace their origins."

The curse was potion-based, causing Moira's temporary loss of speech and Donnan's slight queasiness. Asphodel flowers had been arranged on the grave, the same that Leander had once left on Iona's altar inside the lakehouse. The grave itself, the remains, and the flowers had not been cursed, only concealed from muggles, though Fauna would consider the sight of that skull to be a curse in itself.

"Based on what we found, we're definitely taking your uncle and Moira's suspicions seriously. The Hunts are still at the top of our list, and we're doing everything we can to bring them in."

Finding them was the problem. Stopping them from following and harassing the McBoids was another problem.

For now, Fauna made no mention of the faint traces of hexes marring the area around the gravestone. The tree had not been hit by lightning. The ground had not been churned by rain and snow. If Duncan could offer any impressions or observations first, Fauna wanted to hear it.

She glanced at Trevelyan, curious if now was the right time to tell Duncan that the skull was not Iona's, though it was sure to remind the McBoids painfully that they hadn't yet uncovered Iona's body.

The grave would remain empty, still.

1.	Waning Moon Fever

The inside of the McBoid cottage was simple and quaint. The most noticeable feature was the painting of a woman that hung over the fireplace. She looked young, probably not all that much older than Moira McBoid, with sun-streaked brown hair and lively eyes. Unlike most portraits in magical homes, though, this one was static, clearly the creation of a Muggle painter rather than a magical one.

After he'd agreed to let her tag along today, Blake had shared her impressions of her first meeting with Duncan McBoid. She'd described the Scottish wizard as friendly, but someone who spent more time asking questions than he did sharing information. Jonas had taken the time to check up on the man's Ministry file as well. McBoid had once worked on Level Four, but he'd left after the Ministry had fallen and hadn't returned again. That said something about his politics.

Blake did an able job recounting where they were in the investigation. That was likely going to be one of the trickier parts of this conversation to navigate. The McBoid family had been waiting for information on Iona's fate for over ten years. Asking them to be patient while the Aurors tracked down the seemingly unplottable Hunt siblings seemed like it would be a hard swallow.

But that's what they were here to do today. Donnan McBoid had made a cryptic comment[1] about how his nephew might have visited the grave alone, but he hadn't had any details to share when Jonas had raised the question again later. The McBoids in general seemed like hardy folks who were slow to turn to the Ministry -- supporting what Jonas had inferred about their politics. If there were something more to learn here, it would likely take some coaxing.

"That's where we were hoping you might be able to offer some clarity," Jonas put in, flashing the older wizard a slight smile. His forehead creased as he regarded McBoid. "I assume your niece and uncle have told you at least a bit about what they saw at the grave, yeah? What have you heard about it?"

1.	February 19, 2012 - The Grave

Duncan listened patiently while Blake recounted some of what they had discovered. Sincerity, earnestness, and a hint of sympathy could be heard in her professional tone. There was no doubt everything she said was true, but aurors had their limits on what they could do. It was necessary and he was grateful for it, considering the war, but it also wasn’t enough.

Lorelei Hunt had been at this game for a long time and she would not be caught or taken down by conventional means.

Blake’s silence regarding the origins of the skull made him believe his suspicions were correct. It was not Iona’s, but he had never assumed it was. The Hunts had taken Iona, fully, and they weren’t liable to give even a piece back.

Trevelyan spoke up next, and the Scotsman’s attention turned to the other wizard. He nodded and leaned back in his chair, “I don’t know how much help I can be since I didn’t see anything for myself, but I’ll certainly try.

Moira didn’t tell me much as usual, just that there had been a skull and flowers at the grave and that the aurors were investigating. The curse took effect not long after,” he shrugged his shoulder. Getting anything out of her after that was impossible. “So, the next day I went to Donnan.”

It was very important he kept the timetable straight in whatever he told the aurors. Those were facts that could easily be checked up on and while his uncle was as suspicious as anyone, Donnan also had no reason to lie to anyone in authority. What a mess this all was.

“He told me everything he could recall, as difficult as it was for him. How he suspected the tree was struck by lightning, the ground was churned up, and even that the white flowers reminded him of the ones around the lakehouse.”

He could see what Blake meant already: Duncan McBoid had responded to his question very precisely. He'd included not only what he heard, but sourced it specifically to his uncle. That made him a dream witness for the lawyers on Level Two, but less so for the Aurors, who often got some of their best information from interviewees who spoke more freely.

It was also interesting. There were two sorts of people who were careful around Aurors: those who had had trouble with the Ministry in the past, and those who had something to hide now. McBoid was logically the former; the question was whether or not he might also fall into the latter category too, although Jonas wasn't so presumptuous as to think he might be connected with the Hunts. But something had happened at the grave before the skull's appearance.

"Yeah, he shared as much with us, too," Jonas said, his brow furrowing. "Have you been by the grave yourself, by chance?"

And there it was.

Duncan shook his head, “Not since the New Year. I went by to pay my respects, though I felt like an idiot talking to a rock.” That was true enough. It wasn’t like his cousin’s spirit was around anymore and her bones were still lost somewhere. No matter what he said or did, she couldn’t hear him.

The Scotsman looked down now, as though thinking back to that graveside visit. “While I was there, I did get the feeling like someone was watching me though I didn’t see anyone even with a revelio charm.” He considered a moment longer and looked up again.

“My family doesn’t generally like to voice hunches without some kind of evidence, but after my time in the Resistance during the war I learned to trust those hunches. That’s why I warned them all not to visit the gravesite alone, just in case.” One lie surrounded by truth. Fortunately he’d had a lot of practice at that over the last decade.

Fauna jotted down Duncan's answers in the little notebook resting on her knee. The McBoids were a thoughtful, watchful family, and Duncan seemed more inclined to share his observations than the rest of the clan, though Fauna couldn't fault Moira for the twin curses of silence and extreme introversion, nor Donnan, cursed with grief.

Duncan answered specifically to their specific questions, until mentioning his visit to Iona's grave.

Fauna glanced up, the tip of her pen blotting the notebook paper. Duncan too, felt watched. Just that once or since January? She would ask. Her brow furrowed, worried for the family. Did Angus feel watched as well? Perhaps Angus or Duncan could provide some guidance about any other relatives that she might be overlooking. Her gaze drifted to the portrait above the mantle of the woman with the wind and sun in her hair.

Duncan had mentioned that he'd left the Beast division about thirteen years ago, and Fauna had assumed he'd left due to the takeover at the Ministry. Looking at him, it made sense that he'd joined the Resistance. He was the rock, the voice, and the beating heart of this house, where he'd remained since Moira had been young.

"New Year's - was that New Year's day?" Fauna clarified.

"When you were there, did anything look disturbed or different around the grave, or had damage been done to the tree at the time?" Fauna asked mildly. "Revelio might not have shown a person, but maybe it revealed other details."

He'd said he hadn't seen the damage for himself, but Fauna wanted to verify. The traces of the duel that Level Two had found in the area looked old and faded and included the hex that had scorched the tree, but it was hard to tell the exact timeframe. The skull and the flowers and the curse itself were much more recent.

She didn't recall a Revelio charm on the list of older spells found, but she'd check anyway, curious. It could have all too easily been masked by the less subtle hexes flung about.

Duncan dipped his head to Fauna in confirmation on the day, “Aye, New Year’s Day.” There was little point trying to make it a day earlier or later. The fewer lies one told, the easier it was to keep track of them all. Granted, he kept truths hidden regarding quite a few things including the existence of a different cousin he had just recently learned about on the day in question.

Once her other questions were asked, Duncan shook his head. “The tree was undamaged and everything looked exactly the same as when the gravestone was set in place.” Not even a week had passed between those two events. Had the hag been watching the area since the stone had been placed?

“Except for that watched feeling, everything was unremarkably ordinary.” And so it had been, before the duel.

“I had left a bottle of wine before I went to a friend’s flat to celebrate the new year. The night before I spent with my brother.” Moira had declined to partake in their festivities. Duncan thought she had said something about needing to study.

Everything, including the tree, was intact when Duncan had visited on New Year's Day. He seemed very observant with or without a Revelio spell. Fauna trusted his perception, but glanced up with a curious raise of her eyebrows when he volunteered more information.

She glanced at Jonas. Why would they need to know where he'd gone on New Year's Eve, or what he'd done the night after? Duncan looked at ease here, in his home, so she didn't think he was nervous, but maybe he was chattier than she'd initially thought.

Or nervous for a reason.

Fauna smiled slightly, "Here's hoping that 2012 is at least a little better than 2011."

Fauna took a glance at her notes, her brow furrowing. Maybe it all had to do with him feeling followed.

"You mentioned that you haven't been to the grave since New Year's," Fauna looked at Duncan for confirmation. He hadn't been back with family, and it sounded like no one in the family had visited until Donnan and Moira's fateful visit. She'd check, but that seemed right.

"Was that the first time you felt watched?"

Despite her concern, Fauna relaxed her face a little.

"Have you felt watched since then? Around the farm here, or anywhere else?"

Miss Blake certainly seemed to bite into the ‘feeling watched’ statements from him and his family. They were fair questions, considering everything that had happened. Except out here on a farm in the middle of nowhere it wasn’t a certainty for anything. Likely that had been the biggest reason his niece hadn’t wanted to mention it. Wild animals, or any of their animals, sometimes watched the wix as they went about their day.

“Aye, that was the first time.” Very likely the first because he hadn’t gotten her attention yet. Duncan had it now, he was certain. The time or two he had felt watched since, the Scotsman thought he had felt a certain amount of hate aimed at him but it disappeared so quickly he might have just imagined it.

For her next question he gave a noncommittal shrug of one shoulder. “A few times around the farm, but I can’t say for certain if it was like at the grave or not. For all I know it might have been the local wildlife, or nothing at all.” Of course, anytime someone felt watched they should remain alert. Duncan was steadfast on that point, regardless of what was watching.

Jonas listened silently, considering. Lorelei Hunt certainly seemed to have a knack for haunting the families of her victims. First had been Wesley Wold's recounting of his strange dream, and now the ominous happenings around the McBoid family. It made him resolve to check in on Aileen Reid soon. He was glad that Carstairs had installed Abby in a position on Level Two, because it made keeping an eye on her easier, but the elder Reid sister also had a clear connection to the Hunt siblings.

It was interesting, though, that all of these encounters seemed to have started after Christmas. For months, the Ministry hadn't been able to find a single sign of either of the Hunt siblings after Abby's harrowing escape in August. What had changed? The Death Chamber had been more active then, helping pentrals to cross over -- had that roused her? Or had she and her brother simply taken that long to set up shop again somewhere?

"Duncan, you mentioned that you left a bottle of wine at the grave before you went to celebrate with a friend," he interjected thoughtfully. They had found remains of a wine bottle amidst the signs of the battle, seemingly exploded by a burst of magic. "Do you remember around what time you left? When did you get to your friend's flat?"

Duncan looked over at the senior auror’s interjection, nodding in agreement at his mention of the wine. Then at his question he looked thoughtful for a moment before answering, “Around eight, I’d say, give or take a few minutes.”

He had a hunch that Kurby wanted whatever he had been doing earlier that evening to remain as much a secret as his own dealings. Of course, none of that would matter if the Scotsman’s two guests didn’t learn the hunter was his friend.

Only the fact was they were aurors. Aurors generally liked to follow up on most everything involving a serious case like catching the Hunts. One never knew what clues would be found in the strangest of places.

As Fauna took notes, in the back of her mind she was thinking about how many 'gifts' had gone out this month, one left at Iona's grave and several others sent to herself, Virgil, and Bagnold. A few days ago, after the discovery of the chocolates in Bagnold's office[1], Fauna had asked Abby if she'd received anything unwelcome at the office or around her flat, or if she'd felt targeted at all, and Abby had known exactly what she was getting at, but had reassured her she was doing fine. The flat she shared with Raine had remained the safe haven it had been from the very beginning, and as far as she knew, she and her sister were fine. Abby was just a bit worried about Virgil and Fauna and Bagnold.

Fauna hadn't expected Abby to include the werewolf hunter she barely knew, but before she could wonder too much about it, they'd both been interrupted. Fauna had left with a touch of a relief - at least Abby was alright - but more than that, a sense of dread.

She glanced at Auror Trevelyan, following his line of questioning. If the Hunts were tracking Duncan's movements, it might help to know where he went after he'd visited the grave.

"Duncan, who did you visit? And about how long did you stay?"

1.	The More We Know

“I went to Bagnold’s flat. Kurby Bagnold.”

The Scotsman had definitely not gone to visit the somewhat older Shay Bagnold. When the war ended, he and Duncan had a falling out. One wanted to immediately return to the Ministry to put things back in order. In the other a seed of mistrust in the overall scheme of organization that held so much power had been planted and he did not want to return.

Duncan went on ahead with answering the young auror’s next question, “And I stayed until morning. Talked and drank too much and Bagnold was kind enough to let me sleep on the couch.[1]”

1.	Whether Duncan slept on the couch or on Kurby’s bed has yet to be determined. But Duncan insists on the couch.