6 August 2012
10am on a Monday
Gravesbarrow House, near Godric's Hollow

The Gravesbarrow House was in the West Country, on the edge of a wood, the closet village being Godric's Hollow, where there was Floo access. The immediate surrounding area, up to the old low stone wall, was set with an Anti-Apparition enchantment - access was up the path by foot. The house was small and built of wood. The building had been maintained as an out-of-the-way storage closet of sorts for the safe keeping of key Magical Law Enforcement assets, usually witnesses in waiting.

Savvina Katopodis had been living here for two months now, a long-waited reprieve from the stifling, lying, winding burrows of the subterranean Ministry of Magic. Another fellow lived there, older, Mr. Zielinski. Unlike Savvina, he was free to come and go as he wished. They were not fond of each other, but since they both tidied up after themselves, there was little reason for them to speak. Savvina didn't know 'what he was in for' but suspected he was a witness in some ongoing investigation who needed to be able to stay hidden. He was free to come and go as he wished; Savvina was ordered to stay put. Everything she'd need would be brought in and check-ins from Magical Law Enforcement, she was advised, would be random.

They were allowed visitors. Mr. Zielinski never had any. Savvina had some. She saw Harper Graves from week to week, and the Werewolf Capture Unit came to collect her each month, giving away her status to Mr. Zielinski early.

"Oh, well that's me feeling safe and sound," he'd grumbled in his lightly Polish accent. He muttered something else about locking his bedroom door.

Savvina didn't like gardening much, but it was something to do. She'd been scraping at the overgrown garden, picking weeds from between the stones, and had repainted a bench. Without a wand, it was slow, crusty work. There were a few potted plants doing their best nearer to the house, dill and basil. Today, the clouds were big and fluffy and the sky impossibly blue. A distant Apparition crack caught her attention and she straightened up to see past the windbreak.

If it was Mr. Zielinski, she'd go back to her so-called gardening. If it was MLE to check on her, she'd head inside to wash up.

It was a dear little house, set all by itself on the edge of a wood with a quaint little stone wall all around it. If it wasn’t for everything that Saoirse knew about this place, she might have even approved of it as a home for a wolf: surrounded by forest, the air full of comforting smells of oak, birch, and muddy earth.

The magical government had held onto Savvina Katopodis for so long that it had started to seem impossible that they’d ever let her go again. More than once since Oscar had gotten word in January that she'd been arrested, Saoirse had daydreamed about storming the underground castle, about rallying a crew and sneaking in to save the Greek witch and any others who had been wrongfully imprisoned.

But the others would never have gone along with it. Everyone knew there wasn’t a hope of breaching that deep, dark place without setting the Ministry’s eyes on you permanently. Even Oscar, who danced around the edges of polite magical society since his partner worked at St. Mungo’s, hadn’t dared send a discreet reply back to their imprisoned comrade.

Whatever had made the Ministry let go of Savinna after so many months, they couldn’t have chosen a place farther in spirit from their underground lair in central London. When they’d again gotten word that Savvina had been moved from the Ministry, Saoirse had conjured up all kinds of horrible prisons: towering fences, sinister watchtowers on every corner, prisoners bound with silver chains. This place, though, couldn't be farther from it. The low stone wall surrounding the little house looked as though it couldn't keep a stubby gnome out of the overgrown garden, let out a headstrong werewolf who was determined to find her way through.

Saoirse kept her wand in her hand as she crept toward the edge of the property, the hair prickled on the back of her neck and her senses alert to any hint of danger. She’d chosen this day because it was so close to the full moon. With any luck, the Ministry bloodrobes would let their guard down and be less likely to keep a close eye on Savvina now that her wolfishness had faded, but there was still a danger that they could be waiting for her here.

Then, suddenly, before she ever would have expected it, she spotted the long-lost wolf that she’d come here for. There stood Savinna Katopodis, her curly black hair pulled back and dressed for a muddy session tending to the garden, craning her neck to see who had come to visit.

A week ago, she might have given into her instincts and bolted to throw her arms around her friend, but the waning moon always left prudence in its wake. Saiorse stayed riveted in place, her eyes wide, staring in astonishment at the ghost on the other side of the quaint stone wall.

The short frame, the red curls, the stance. The context delayed Savvina's recognition for a long beat, but there standing on the other side of the wall was Saoirse having come from the direction of the woods.

"Δεν το πιστεύω!"[1] Savvina wiped her hands on her canvas apron and began at a trot, with no trace of Saoirse's caution, to the low wall on the west side of the property. The stone wall was hip-height and easy to cross. No trap was tripped, no alarm was ringing anywhere. The wall was just a wall.

"You are okay...!" she breathed and wrapped up the younger witch in a hug. "I was so worried but I could not get word out," she said into Saoirse's hair. It had been so long since these two outlaw werewolves had seen each other. They had not been especially close, but Savvina had not been especially close with anyone. Still, they'd been supports for each other in the chaos, along with Oscar Truemane.

The Savvina that Saoirse knew before was not the run-and-hug type. She had always been collected and slow to show affection. But these last months of isolation had changed her, caused her to make resolutions, and examine her just-out-of-reach way of holding friends.

She had so many questions and warnings and worries for Saoirse, but they could wait a moment. They could stand by for a few deep breaths.

1.	"I don't believe it!"

The younger werewolf certainly was the run-and-hug type, but even so, Savvina’s immediate show of affection took her by surprise. Saoirse’s eyes widened, and she tried to take a quick look around, vigilant to any sign of a Ministry alarm. But then Savvina’s arms were thrown around her and Saoirse had to focus on hugging her in return.

 “Ah, sure,” she said as she finally pulled back, all to take in Savvina’s appearance. “Well, you did alright with that despite it all, didn’t ye? Our mutual friend got your note.”

Theirs was a community more like a spider web than a wolf den: tightly woven in places, looser and further apart in others, but with the strings anchoring them together all the same. Ever since her arrival in London over a year before, Savvina had been one of the more distant ones: she kept to herself more than many ‘wolves did, more cautious and careful than standoffish. Oscar Truemane was part of the webbing that kept them all connected, ensuring that even solitary werewolves like Savvina didn’t have to survive all on their own as a lone wolf.

Saoirse aspired to be part of that webbing, too.

And here she was now, with their missing werewolf in front of her. Despite having been missing for months, Savvina didn’t look any the worse for wear: whatever crimes and mistreatments the Ministry might have committed against her, at least they were feeding her, Saoirse thought with an imaginary cluck of her tongue.

Asking how Savvina was felt wholly inadequate, especially when she’d been hidden away for so long, but that conversation was long overdue and sure to last a while. Saoirse leaned back, casting another cautious look around the garden and the dear little cottage.

“Is it safe to talk here?” She took pride in her bravery — that was the part of the ‘wolf that she cherished most in herself — but there was a fine line between courage and recklessness, especially when their hunters were concerned. “I thought they might have less of an eye on you after the full moon.”

Saoirse was nearly ten years younger than Savvina in a time of their life where that kind of distance did matter, but not in a way that made impassable barriers. Saoirse was more serious than others her age because she'd had to be and so she seemed more mature to Savvina.

"Oh, I am mostly forgotten," Savvina said with a smile. "There are ears in the house," (quite literally), "but not out here. We can talk."

Savvina sat down on the wall and fingered the seams in her apron. The breeze moved her hair around a little.

"I want to tell you everything. So much has happened and not happened. But how are you, how is Oscar? How is everyone?"

It seemed almost too good to be true: their long-lost wolf, safe and hidden in these woods. Living out a quiet life in the little cottage, no eyes or ears hidden in the garden to watch her.

Saoirse cast a cautious glance around, but she followed Savvina's lead and perched on the stone wall. Like her, like so many others in their hidden community, she knew that the older 'wolf had spent years and years avoiding detection from those who would hunt them. It was impossible to live like that and not develop a strong sense of your keeper and when you were being watched.

"Aw, Oscar's grand," she said, as she arranged her skirt to cover her knees. The wall was short enough that the toes of her worn leather boots could press against the dirt, steadying and grounding. "He wanted to come along and see you too, but you know how he is. Besides, we thought it better was it just one of us."

That was the simpler question to answer. The others -- how was everyone? How was she? -- took a bit more consideration.

"The others are mostly alright. Afraid, with all that's been happenin'." Her dark brown eyes found Savvina's, and Saoirse gave her a tight, rueful smile. "They'll be thrilled to hear you're alright, though. We all thought you must be dead after you disappeared like you did."

Trouble found Savvina's brows. She returned Saoirse's gaze but then broke it off to look out into the gentle woods. It was hard to process that the 'others' had worried for her, that they thought of her. Savvina had tried hard to be separate from most people, believing that was safest. They all had so much to lose and trust was very dangerous. In the end, though, it hadn't mattered. She'd been betrayed by an old friend.

"If you come again, I can send you back with letters," Savvina said. "I do not know how long this will last," she added.

"I killed three people on the Cold Moon," Savvina said then, voice low and steady, brows still troubled. It was The Worst Nightmare. It's what everyone feared of them. Savvina was haunted by this and probably always would be.

"There is a wizard who is taking werewolves and setting them loose without Wolfsbane. Please say there have been warnings. I get the newspaper here now sometimes, but there isn't much about ... us."

More and more frequently of late, it was starting to feel as if the real curse was the injustice that magical society inflicted upon them, not the wolfishness that so many of them were afraid to fully embrace. Saoirse's ruefulness faded as she regarded the other werewolf, replaced by worry and concern. This place, the darling little cottage, was barely a reprieve from the older 'wolf's troubles, and so worn down was Savvina that she still could not be sure of how long it would last.

But despite it all, her friend was still more idealistic than she, in some ways. Saoirse gave her a smile, skepticism mixing with bitterness.

"Not from their Ministry," she said cuttingly.

She knew better than to think that there would be. The Ministry of Magic, for all its sweet promises of safety and forgiveness if only they all were to trust its words and register, had never cared about the werewolves that it claimed to be under its care. But no one at the Ministry talked about how the Dunnigan brothers had been kidnapped not once, but twice. No one talked about how the so-called knightly Aurors had supposedly turned a blind eye to the werewolf games, nor attempted to conveniently pin the entire thing on a dead Russian woman. The entire institution was just as corrupt as it had been when it had sent agents to hunt innocent wixes down when she'd been a child.

But that did not mean that the werewolves of Britain didn't have their own ways of getting warnings to each other.

"There have been whispers goin' about, though." Her eyes found Savvina's again, troubled and clear. "Everyone's been on alert after what happened to you, and then the Dunnigan lads in January. But sometimes lately, it feels as if they're pickin' us off one by one."

The acid in Saoirse's voice was easy to pick up on and Savvina was comforted that this had not changed in the young witch. Saoirse was going to do something great one day, Savvina was sure. She could name the evils of the world even when others couldn't. Savvina had regrets now. If she'd allowed herself to better trust and support the group, she might not have been so easy to separate. When she was free again, Savvina would change this.

"Then be very careful," Savvina urged. "Stick together, always."

It was not advice Saoirse needed, but perhaps now she'd know Savvina would be with them when she could.

"There's something else. I gave them a name. I told them about Greyfriar."

Savvina now knew exactly who he was, that he was a famous headteacher and even served on the courts. He'd been her contact through Oscar who'd provided enough Wolfsbane potion for several moons when she'd first arrived.[1]

"I shouldn't have. I just - I was trying to cooperate. If the Ministry has gone after him for this, it has not been in the newspaper, so I think they will use this information against him later. Either way, you should know he may be compromised. He should know I said his name. He was brave to help me, you know."

1.	12 Dec 2011 - Furry Little Problem, 21 Dec 2011 - Unnatural Habitat

She'd come here today without a clear idea of what to expect, but there was something in the other 'wolf's voice that made the hair on the back of Saoirse's neck stand on end. She reached for Savvina's hand to give it a squeeze, forgetting for a moment that the other werewolf usually shied away from touch.

Stick together, always. That was what packs did. They had little other choice if they wanted to survive in the cruel, relentless magical world.

But Savvina was still talking, and concern brought by her words knitted Saoirse's brow. She, too, had come back to the United Kingdom only recently, but she knew the name Greyfriar even if she'd never met him; any werewolf would.

The Headmaster at the magical school in Scotland was perhaps the most famous of their number. He lived a different kind of life than most of them, sheltered from the discrimination and trials that most of them usually suffered, and Saoirse had a hard time trusting anyone so enmeshed in the Ministry. But he seemed like a decent sort, speaking up publicly where he could, and he was the one to go to if a 'wolf was in desperate need of help.

"I'll make sure he gets word," she promised Savvina. She meant it: it might be too dangerous for her to drop in on Greyfriar on her own, but Oscar Truemane surely knew how to reach him and she could always send an anonymous letter if not.

But that left the question of their long-lost 'wolf herself. She'd come all this way, braved the dangers of this place to find Savvina, but now that she'd found her, simply leaving her to the Ministry's whims felt horribly cruel.

"And what about ye, now?" she asked, lines creasing in her forehead as she drew back to regard Savvina once more. "D'you know what they have planned for ye? Surely they can't leave ye here forever."

Saoirse's hand touched hers and Savvina squeezed it back. She was touch-starved and found it, like their hug a few minutes ago, heartening.

Savvina had been warned by the werewolf hunter that to 'accuse' this Greyfriar of what he'd done could mean bad things for her, but after all these months the fear of what could happen had given way to making plans.

"There is a deal," Savvina said with a sigh. She smiled a little to show Saoirse that she wasn't all bad news. She patted the tops of her thighs and shifted a little on the wall. "It is hopeful, actually. I'm trying to be hopeful, at least. I have seen a Legelimens - strangest mage I have ever met, Θεέ μου -  but we have seen past the clouds. It's information that makes the MLE like me, I think."

She smiled fully then.

"And there's something going in the Werewolf Wing that has nothing to do with me?" Savvina added. "I don't know. Harper, my lawyer, she thinks it might be lucky timing. She doesn't think they will send me to Azkaban, that it wouldn't look good."

Savvina smiled again, self-conscious only in that she knew she was no longer the same person Saoirse might remember. She was more like her old self, really.

"I have a lot to say, apparently. My roommate here is terrible. He thinks I will eat him."

Saoirse let out a laugh, sharp and clear, for the first time since she'd appeared outside the gate. Out of all of the ways that the world could cut at them, out of all the microaggressions that Savvina must have faced, a roommate convinced that she'd devour him would try even the most patient of nerves.

"Jaysus," she said, breathing in sharply. "It's a shame I can't stay and flash my teeth at him. Surely no one at the Ministry will mind if we only take a nibble."

It was good news if Savvina thought she might have a way out of this, but Saoirse knew better than to ever fully trust the British Ministry. She'd seen firsthand the evil that they had wrought over a decade prior, and magical governments were never kind to 'wolves. They might make her a promise and dig their claws in regardless of whether the Greek werewolf cooperated or not.

A little more soberly now, but still sincere, she gave the other werewolf a warm smile.

"Is there a way that ye can get word to us if needed?" she pressed. "I'll drop in again, only I know we must be careful. Is there a way that you can signal? Or leave a note if we shouldn't visit?"

Savvina laughed with Saoirse at Mr. Zielinski, and that face he'd make if his troubles were to double. Two werewolves, and both women. His worst nightmare. When she asked about a signal, Savvina thought for a moment.

"I do not have a wand," she said, noting the primary limitation. Then she nodded, satisfied with the idea. "Harper would send something for me. And if you come and see a stone garden gnome on this wall, then stay away. We'll be proper spies. The dangerous werewolf conspiracy made real, passing notes and leaving gnomes."

Savvina grinned, then stood up from the wall. "You shouldn't stay too long."

She'd come here knowing the visit would be short; in truth, it had been far more fruitful than Saoirse would have ever dared to hope. They'd not only found their long-lost wolf, but Savvina was as safe as they might have dared to dream, all alone here in the dear little house in the woods.

A smile tugged at her mouth, and Saoirse stretched out her hand to Savvina one more time, her fingers lightly finding the other's. Renewed hope for both of them, even after her friend had been imprisoned all alone for so long.

"Stay safe," she told her. "There's a little Muggle vegan butchery in a neighborhood of London near the river and the railway tracks, called Bermondsey. That's the place to send a note, if ye must."

Savvina laced her fingers into Saoirse's for a few seconds. It wasn't the embrace of their meeting, but it was nice all the same. It was a good-bye for what Savvina had everyone reason to hope would be a short absence.

"Bermondsey," Savvina repeated. She knew of it. "You stay safe as well, friend of mine."

With that, and a wave, Savvina climbed back over the low wall, making her own way back so she wouldn't have to see Saoirse go. There was no reason to savor their meeting because they'd have another soon enough.

fin