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!"