After the haunted house the previous night, both the grounds around the shrieking shack and the path down to Hogsmeade were relatively quiet.  The yard had been unusually busy with thrill seekers during the previous evening when, concealed by a long, dark cloak, Cinead had surveyed the festival for an optimum drop site.  While, at times, his concealing cloak was prone to drawing others' attention, he had been far from the only one dressed in a clandestine manner and few spared his cloaked form a second glance.  But, it had been far too busy on the previous night for  Cináed to have considered dropping his muggleborn captive. 

Tonight, most of the festivities were still over in Hogsmeade proper, though the shack wasn't entirely deserted.  At regular intervals, pairs or small groups of youngsters would pass by, with the hopes of getting some last minute thrills from the run down shack.  With a little patience, the area was soon deserted and  Cináed was free to step from the shadows and set the pale and unconscious Akiva Katz in a creaky chair left abandoned near the front of the shack - a convenient remnant of the previous night's haunted house

Pathetic.  It was the best way to describe the woman.  She'd lost considerable weight during her nine day stay in captivity and the cut on her hand from the broken glass had become an angry shade of red.  The small, though distinctive burnt pattern also glowed an angry red.  She'd  been kept unconscious since  Cináed had stupified her the previous evening before she'd been moved from the room she'd been kept in.  How much she would remember when she, finally, was roused, was a mystery. 

Voices down the road drew  Cináed's attention from the muggleborn witch and he turned, quickly slipping into the darkness, taking care to eliminate his footprints.  Once he was a considerable distance from the shack, he stood in the darkness.  From where  Cináed stood, shrouded in darkness, a large black and white bird fluttered up into the high dark canopy of a night-shrouded pine tree.

The continued state of sleep betrayed nothing to the woman.  She was completely oblivious to the series of activities surrounding the amount of time that could have passed while in her state.  She felt nothing, saw nothing, and heard nothing, but that did not mean she did not experience anything.  She had been plagued with nightmares – and even worse, could not wake up from them.  She was forced to sleep through scenario after scenario of horrifying treatment.  She was like a small animal at the mercy of a very cruel master in every nightmare, yelping and whimpering with pain.

The nightmare she was having was particularly gruesome.  It was hot everywhere and Akiva was in a very small space – it seemed like a cage.  She was boxed in and her legs and arms were too long to stretch out comfortably.  Above the box hovered a menacing figure, though she could no longer see his face.  She could hear a low, rumbling voice, but it was indistinct.  She knew her wand when it was pointed at her though, and her stomach turned as her captor laughed – her wrist was burning uncontrollably.  She was not aware of it, but she would have distinct mark to keep the experience in her mind for a good, long time. 

Though she tried to scream, it was useless.  Nightmares were always peculiar in that way, when it was most imperative to make one’s voice heard, it was impossible.  It was what made them so scary.  And though she was unable to make any sound in her head, to a passer-by, a very low sort of squeak came from the seemingly fake body on the chair.  No real person should have appeared as the blonde on the chair did; considerably thinner, sunken in features with pale skin, clothing ripped up, hair askew, and probably less than hygienic.  She was also, for the most part, motionless, except for a twitching finger or two and minuscule lip movements as her dream self tried to scream. 

Only one thing caused Fauna to head over to the Shrieking Shack tonight: friendship. It sounded corny, but she’d finally gotten up the nerve to see someone she hadn’t spoken to for a long time. She hated haunted houses, actually, and it showed in how her shoulders hunched and her arms crossed defensively as she walked. Fauna didn’t need any extra thrills in her life! She jumped at sudden noises all on her own.

Waker had better be worth it, she thought, startling when a few laughing kids ran past. Soon, she rounded the bend and saw the shack in the distance, silhouetted against the night sky. Fauna shivered, though the weather was warm. She’d almost prefer campy, evil laughter or ghostly wails as opposed to this unsettling quiet. Still, Fauna continued on, reminding herself how miserable she’d be if Waker never talked to her again, only acknowledging her when absolutely necessary. Her chest hurt every time she thought about it. She drew nearer and nearer to the dreaded shack, until to her surprise, she was standing right in front of it.

Fauna hesitated before the front door, taking little notice of the imaginative decorations on and around the building. She had no idea where Waker was, if she had even been working tonight, or if she was even here. She frowned, stalling, but as her hand reached for the door handle she noticed something very strange.

The dummy moved. The doll, or whatever it was, slumped on the chair right next to her had moved!

She let go of the door handle and took a step back, staring at it with a befuddled expression. Her heart beat fast, like it always did when she was startled, but she tried to calm down, reasoning that it was just a bit of advanced magic that animated the dummy. It looked so morbidly lifelike!

Fauna leaned forward to peer at it. Her stomach started twisting up in knots, but even then, she told herself that she was being silly and overreacting like usual.

When she saw the sweat on the dummy’s brow, her eyelids flutter, even a breath escape from her dry, cracked lips…

Fauna let out a short, terrified scream and jumped back. This was not funny. It just wasn’t funny. And it had to be a joke because if it wasn’t, then it was too horrible to think about.

Gasping for air, she looked wildly around, hoping for someone to be there. Then again, who did something like this? What kind of person left a half-starved, pale as parchment woman alone outside of the Shrieking Shack? Fauna’s breathing became more irregular and she had to turn away from the woman to keep from panicking.

Slowly, she turned and inched closer to the figure, catching a whiff of something sickly sweet. Fauna was too afraid to touch her, and much too afraid to try a spell, but she looked into the woman’s face, watching every tremor and fleeting expression. To steady her shaking hands, she rested them on the back of the chair and leaned forward.

“H-hello…?” She whispered at her, not sure if she wanted her to wake up or not. If the woman woke up, it meant she was real. That this was real.

“Can… can you hear me…?” Fauna thought she saw the woman’s finger twitch, but she couldn’t be sure.

Fauna stepped back again, literally wringing her hands. In a few seconds that felt like hours, she took a deep breath, scanned the area, and finally opened the door to the Shrieking Shack.

“Help..?” Her voice quavered into the dark shack. Fauna listened closely, only to be greeted by silence. A sob suddenly grew in her throat but she pushed it down.

“Someone’s hurt…” she said more loudly. “Please, if anyone’s here…” She trailed off, realizing it was useless. Fauna stepped out of the shack and let the door bang shut. It was strange, the way the adrenaline pumped through her, urging her to do something and do it fast, but her body was held back by this terror- terror at the situation and of making the wrong move. Glancing one last time at the woman, Fauna quickly turned, intending to run back to the Hogsmeade shops and yell for help. She didn’t want to leave her, but at the moment she couldn’t think of anything else to do.

The sickening blackness after a nightmare is always bad.  It’s even worse when it’s the first sensation one has after an undetermined amount of time and the feeling is finally returning to one’s hands and feet.  She felt like her head had been swung at with a golf club and her eyelids fluttered momentarily.  Even the smallest amount of light hurt her sensitive eyes and she closed them tightly as an immediate reaction. 

There was a soft voice, not like the one she almost remembered.  She could hear it, faintly, but her ears were still ringing, her head was still pounding.  Whatever the case, she kept her eyes closed.  She licked her lips, they were so dry, and she realized how thirsty she was.  The voice spoke up again, still soft, and then died away.  Akiva attempted to open her eyes again, but they quickly shut once more. 

A moment of adjustment was in order, but she did not have a moment.  She moved her hands, feeling something hard under her palm.  She moved her hand forward – one instantly began to burn and she hissed in pain, moving the hand away from the surface that scratched.  Bringing the hand to her chest, she slowly opened her eyes, afraid of what she might see.  Indeed, what she saw was not what she expected.  She had no idea where she was.  It was dark out – she was outside, she knew that – and she was in a chair.

She had no idea how she got where she was, nor the actual destination.  She was in a rocking chair, outside some building, and for a horrifying few minutes of silent panic, she was worried that the man she couldn’t get out of her nightmares was still tormenting her.  She looked around, dazed and confused, seeing no one in her immediate vicinity.  She was so quick to sit up and push herself that she fell out of the chair, surprised and in shock over the whole situation.  It did not stop her looking, however, and she lifted her very heavy head. 

Her eyes searched wildly for something, anything, and she saw a slender figure a ways off from her. Not sure who it was or what the figure was doing, Akiva could not know whether it was her tormentor or not.  She was seized with fear and let out a blood curdling scream.  She tried to scramble up, but could not find the orientation or strength to do so, instead, she pushed herself back with her arms, smacking into the rocking chair with a yelp. 

She was about to cover her head with her arms when she looked down, spying a mark on her wrist.  It was what she dreamed about – the burning sensation.  It was such a distinct insignia, and yet, she had no idea what it was – only that it was burnt into her flesh.  It made her stomach churn and she screamed again, unable to catch her bearings or understand just what was going on.  Her mind was still foggy and he was possibly still around, still waiting to get her – and she didn’t even know who he was.

Fauna had started to run when she heard the ear-splitting screams and a thud. She whirled around, stumbled, and rushed back towards the woman, every scream so sharp it was painful. The sight of her on the ground was almost too much to bear. Fauna knelt by her and reached out a hand, murmuring any and all reassurances she could think of.

“It’s okay… you’re okay… I’m not going to hurt you…” she reached for her but was, again, afraid to touch her, so she just kept close.

“It’s okay…” she repeated, casting a frightened look around them. Nothing was okay. Her screams had acted like an alarm- Fauna should have thought to scream for help earlier- but the noise could also bring back the person who had left her there. She shuddered and then stared at the woman, trying to appear reassuring, though her facial expression only betrayed the terror she felt.

The signature red cloak that marked the Aurors was draped casually over Tamis Raynor’s shoulders as she strolled around the edges of the Concert field. The sun had finally disappeared completely behind the mountain ranges, casting the valley nestled the pure wizarding village into shadows. Glowing shop windows and suspended lanterns now illuminated the paths, guiding the handful of giggling stranglers migrating toward the remaining festivities.  Many of the booths had already been disassembled and the last two bands of the evening were setting up on stage. The night was almost done. The sooner the better, as far was Raynor was concerned.

The clop of horse hooves against the cobblestone of High Street began to fade as one of the periodic Carriage Rides drifted by the green. Next year she would claim superiority and assign some hapless chap to surveillance duty. But with recent events still fresh in the minds of the Wizarding public, she had decided months ago that she would personally be present. As a result, she had spent the past three days capturing escape gnomes and breaking up domestic disputes. And still no word on Akiva Katz whereabouts.

A brief, muted scream shifted Raynor’s gaze up the deserted path that lead t the shrieking shack, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. She thought the Haunted House had been yesterday. There had been all sorts of hooting and hollering the previous evening as half terrified, half laughing teenagers floated back down the path, debating loudly over what had actually been scary and what had not. It seemed that even after all these years the Shrieking Shack still maintained its pull for the curious. No doubt a few school aged children decided to give themselves a private tour…

Another scream cut through the warm night and squeezed Tamis’ heart. That was not benevolent.

Some of the concert attendees had risen to their feet in a mix of confusion and fright, murmuring worriedly to themselves, many of them reminiscing the events of May second. One of guitar players paused in tuning his instrument and shared a look with his band members.

The Auror hesitated long enough to make eye contact with Archer Radley patrolling nearby before disapparating with a loud CRACK.

Raynor staggered as she popped back into existence at a familiar location next to the Shrieking Shack, practically wheezing against the pressure accumulating in her skull. Unlike other wizards and witches, the effects of apparition that lessened over time intensified in Raynor. The experts in Transportation said that the best explanation they could offer her was that she had an allergy of sorts; some unique “wiring” in her magical make up made the process particular painful. It had, however, been the quickest method of response. At least it had been a short distance, not as impending.

Wand drawn, she surveyed the damage and kept her still churning stomach at bay. There was a foul odor in the air and there were two figures, one bent over the other who was in obvious agony. It was too dark to make out anything with more certainty.

Instinctively, she cast a nonverbal disarming spell toward the possible attacker. “Back away slowly and keep your hands where I can see them,” she ordered very cliché.

Patrol was not a pleasant task.  It was not something Archer wanted to be doing on this August evening.  It was muggy (thankfully not too hot), but hot enough that he was sweating a little under the collar.  Sighing softly, he pulled at the high necked thing, even madder about the whole situation having to be in uniform.  He wanted to a do a plain robes sort of thing, but Ray had insisted that they look professional to keep it out of people’s heads that they could cause mischief.  He was not interested in anything that was going on, least of all the concert, and he rubbed his temple momentarily as one of the guitarists plucked the strings to tune. 

He had never been a particularly artistic child, nothing of the sort appealed to him and though he liked listening to music, he wasn’t going to go out of his way and spend a night at a concert.  He figured a bunch of the kids here weren’t really here for the music though; it was to be with friends and all that.  He could have been home and playing poker with a few buddies, but he was scoping out teen night at Hogsmeade.  Splendid.

Shifting weight from one foot to the other, the Auror looked around the crowd – nothing particularly interesting was going on.  There were a few kids who looked like they were passing around a paper bag.  He was going to go investigate it when he heard something that sounded like a scream.  Turning as quickly as he could maneuver himself, he didn’t see anything of interest.  It had come from the Shrieking shack – probably some lingering people who didn’t get their fill the night before.  It had been a hard night to patrol – all the screaming without knowing whether it was real or not.  He hated haunted houses for that particular reason.

Though, when he was a Hogwarts student, he would have dragged the cutest thing in there and hoped she would have held on for dear life.  He assumed much of that was what happened with kids now as much as it did back then.  No surprises there.  Sighing, he figured with the voice that he did here, it was probably something along those lines.  He had that paper bag to investigate…

He moved forward again, but was stopped in his tracks.  The second scream was far less innocent than a scared girl who wanted her boyfriend’s arm around her.  He immediately sought Tamis in the crowd and nodded to her.  With duel cracks, the pair was off.  He did not particularly mind apparating, though he knew it was a bit of a problem for his boss.  They didn’t have the time to run; however.  With so much potential to have something disastrous happen, it wasn’t the time to take one’s time.

Approaching the front of the shack, Archer’s eyes were peeled for the slightest disturbance.  He hoped they would just find someone who was playing a joke or something – but instead, they saw one figure crouched over another.  The figure on the ground appeared to be moaning and rocking.  The long hair made him instantly assume it was a female and he walked forward only to be halted by a horrible smell.  He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was foul.

His wand was pulled as they moved forward, taking cues from Tamis as they went.  She was the leader here, after all, and he was going to back her up.  She could probably handle the small figure in front of the body anyway, he didn’t want to expose her to whatever smelled so rank when she had just apparated – that would be too much on her, at least in his opinion. No, he moved forward and behind the person Ray was apprehending.  The wand had flown off somewhere to the side, but Archer still approached with caution.  One could never underestimate, but he had to see what was going on.

The figure on the ground was, compared to him, tiny.  Curled up and whimpering about something, she looked and sounded pitiful.  Though he didn’t want to touch her, he had to, and put his hand on her shoulder, “Miss?  Miss can you hear me?” he asked in as soft a voice as he could manage.  Unfortunately, this did not go like he had planned.  Usually, when an auror appeared, calm was the general feeling.  The woman turned her head with her big, brown eyes and horrified expression, searched his face before screaming.

She tried to scramble backward and held up her hands to defend herself, turning her face away.  Archer did not fully recognize her, but he knew enough – and the wound on her hand, the curious mark (That looked exceptionally painful) on her wrist, and the general condition she was in was more than a little alarming.  She only succeeded in hurting herself further as well, pushing back into the rocking chair.  “Ray!” he looked back, still kneeling in front of the woman, “Ray! She’s hurt; we have to get her some help – immediately.”  He looked back to the woman on the ground, clearly muttering about something – about not wanting to be hurt again, and he sighed.  He always got stuck with these jobs.

Biting back the urge to leave it to someone else, Archer extended his big arms and slipped them under her.  She was far too weak to fight him too much, and he clamped on rather tightly as he lifted her.  She thrashed for a moment or two as he tried to assure her he wasn’t going to hurt her and then she instantly calmed.  He looked down at her and realized her body went limp; she had fainted.  “Ray, she’s out.  She needs a healer - now.  I don't know if she could handle side-long either."  His assessment was the best he had from the porch, and hoped that the suspect was easy to take in, because there was clearly something else a little more pressing to attend to.

A loud pop resonated in the air, then another, and Fauna leapt to her feet, glancing all around her. She began fumbling for her wand in her pocket, but as soon as she tugged it out, it flew out of her hand! Fauna shrieked and instinctively shielded her head with her arms, afraid that the small figure coming out of the darkness would sling a spell at her. Then she looked down at the woman huddled on the ground, trying to decide whether she should cover her, too, but she didn’t have time.

“Back away slowly and keep your hands where I can see them," the figure ordered.

Back away slowly… that didn’t sound like something a person would say if she meant to hurt her. The voice didn’t sound cruel either, but authoritative and firm.

Fauna obeyed, putting her hands up and stepping away from the woman very slowly. Her legs shook a little and she couldn’t help but keep glancing at the whimpering person on the ground. When another figure emerged from the darkness, this time from behind, she jumped, realizing that she was surrounded. The man reached out a hand towards the woman and Fauna took a tiny step towards them before she realized she was supposed to stay put.

“Don’t..!” She exclaimed in a whisper, and sure enough, the woman started screaming again- raw, blood curdling screams that made Fauna cringe.

She squinted at the man, finally recognizing his Auror robes. Fauna let out her breath in a rush, her shoulders slumping from relief. The two figures were Aurors. Everything would be okay. He called out towards the other Auror to let her know they needed help, but Fauna only heard it dimly, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart. Her nerves were still on edge and yet the relief she felt made her tired and slow to react.

The Auror tried to pick up the woman and Fauna blinked at him, surprised that he’d move her, though she supposed it had to happen at some point. She watched worriedly as the woman thrashed, and then suddenly went limp. Fauna swallowed hard, more worried that she’d passed out again than when she'd fought and screamed. Whoever it was, she wanted her to be okay, to survive this and what she’d been through.

Fauna’s hands had started to lower without her thinking about it. She raised them again and looked at the Auror called Ray, wondering what would happen next.

Shrouded by the darkened leaves of the tree, Cinaed's small black and white feathered body hoped along a branch until he found an ideal vantage point.  Though it was unlikely any of the responders would take much note of a bird in a tree - if they could even see his black form against the darkness - he was careful to keep himself concealed by a particularly leaf-covered branch.  Except for his head, which he wiggled through the leaves to peer down at the woman in the rocking chair.  Magpies, as Cinaed was quickly finding out, didn't have the best nighttime vision but he could see the chair.  And, he could hear quite well.

Finally, a girl was approaching the shack.  It was clear, by the way she moved, that she hadn't noticed Katz, yet, but it was only a matter of time.  And, then, with a short, strangled scream, Katz had been discovered.  The second scream was longer, louder and more shrill and, quite clearly, Katz.  It was a terrified, pain-filled, blood curdling scream that made it clear Cinaed's efforts of leaving the woman terrified had worked.  Cinaed could feel the urge to grin but his beak merely opened slightly. 

It took less time than Cinaed had expected for the Aurors to respond and, to Cinaed's delight, Raynor was among them.  The poor wench must have been pulling duty at the festival.  Splendid.   He couldn't have planned this better - having Raynor be among the first to observe his handiwork - be among the first to ponder the pattern burnt onto the hand of her supposed friend.  With luck, the woman would loose sleep over this development.  He couldn't linger too long - he needed to be back before his absence was noticed.  But, he'd spare himself a few extra minutes to watch the chaos build in the front yard of the shrieking shack.

The disarmed wand flew off into the woods and out of eyeshot. Summoning it, Raynor caught it with her free hand as it soared back toward her and pocketed it without deterring her attention from the would-be assailant. Archer Radley stepped out of the shadows and, after casting a cautious eye on her detainee, bent down to inspect the victim. As he did so – and the after effects of her apparition began to wane – the Auror allowed herself a closer evaluation of the possible suspect, trying to ignore the shrill screeches.

The more she observed, the less she believed that they had just caught an attempted murder.  The young woman was really little more than a girl, certainly of school age. Her dark hair blended in with the night, which almost seemed to add more emphasis to her large, benign eyes, clearly visible even in the poor lighting. A puffskein was more threatening. And, she seemed far more concerned about what Archer was doing with the victim than the wand directed at her. One of Raynor’s eyebrows froze halfway to her forehead. Not very wise, either.

And then the young lady visibly relaxed, seeming to realize who, or rather what, they were. A criminal caught red handed would not be comforted by the fact that Aurors had done the catching.

Listening to Radley, the Head Auror kept her gaze locked on the young woman a little longer, trying to come to a final conclusion. She seemed visibly concerned. Raynor might have warned her fellow dark wizard catcher about not moving the victim until they were sure it would not cause further harm. But by then the deed was done. For a brief moment, she was torn between sympathy and victory. It could not have been a pleasant experience, but at the same time, she was glad she did not have to do the holding. Not that she could have, but she could have conjured a stretcher… best to not even mention that. She was sure that she already owed him as it was. 

A second later, she realized how urgent the woman’s condition, indeed, was. And thirty seconds after that, it finally struck her just who Archer now had in his arms.

Anger and fear bubbled below the surface but years of learning to react instead of panicking kept them quelled, along with the overwhelming sense of relief at the least, Akiva Katz was alive. Which was better than she had been expecting to find the woman. Now forsaking the foulness, Raynor all but pushed passed the youth, the healer in her rising to the forefront. Many of her inflictions were old – the wound on her hand was old and infected. There was another mark on her wrist, angry and red, but this was not the time for a thorough examination by a washed up, inexperienced ex-healer. They needed real, accessible help.

She could not believe what she was about to say.

“Tulojow Nagde. She lives outside of Hogsmeade. She is  qualified,” she told him, in a voice that was trying far too hard to stay calm. But they still had a problem, her gaze locked back onto her former detainee. The school aged girl was more and more likely not a suspect, the older wounds were evidence that Katz had not just been attacked it had happened a while ago. But she was the closest thing they had to a witness. “And you are coming with us.”

Archer stood uncomfortably with the light woman in his arms.  He was not going to disillusion himself with the fact he was doing someone a real favor by having to deal with it, but at the same time, he couldn’t say that he wasn’t at least glad to have found someone who needed the help.  The response was just different than what he would have wanted – and maybe if she had been a model and only had a stubbed toe or something, that would have been a lot better.  Unfortunately, those kinds of calls only really happened in an Auror’s dreams. 

He tried to hold her as still as possible, only after having gotten her up did he realize it wasn’t the best course of action to actually lift her, but she had been freaking out and he had no way to calm her down.  She was clearly dazed and confused, and he wasn’t going to use his wand against her – she wasn’t someone they were bringing in to justice, she was the victim.  Even something that might have alleviated some of her anxiety or cleared her mind could have registered as an attack in whatever was going on in her mind.  No, he really had no choice, he justified with himself and she had been moving – there was nothing wrong with her ability to move as far as he had judged.

What he really needed at the moment was for Ray to decide what she was going to do.  He wasn’t really the one in the position to be calling the shots, not when he worked with the boss.  But, whatever the case, she came over pretty quickly when she assessed the situation from her spot.  Something flashed on her face and then she started to talk like one of those machine things that called a muggle phone and wouldn’t stop even after one tried to hang up fifteen times. He had come across the technology once when he asked out a muggle girl – never again would he answer a telephone. 

He was getting off track, he reasoned, and stared at her face blankly for a moment as she made a concise statement.  The whole telephone voice had made him zone out – but he was on the job and he caught the end, Nadge.  It immediately clicked that Tulojow, a former Auror, lived in the area and she had training in healing.  Though she was unorthodox in the field, he couldn’t say she wasn’t qualified and he didn’t think the girl could handle being apparated to St. Mungo’s – they needed help in the immediate area.  Tulo was the best option.  “Alright,” he answered plainly, waiting only a moment before turning and briskly heading off.

Archer was clearly the tallest, and thus had the longest legs.  This put him in the position to lead them to the home of Tulojow.  He couldn’t really care less about whether or not she would be sleeping and even if she wasn’t an auror anymore – the instincts she had about helping people, he hoped, had not faltered.  Glancing behind him for a moment, he made sure that Ray and the girl were following (frankly, he couldn’t imagine either of them moving very fast.  Tam, because she was about as tall as a gnome and the girl because she was gangly like a newborn fawn and shaking like a leaf), but he didn’t exactly need them to be fast – he was the one who needed to book it.

The woman in his arms made little sounds once in a while as he walked, but for the most part stayed still and quiet.  When he approached the buildings he recognized as a barn and a home, Archer saw that no lights were on in the home.  It was pitch black.  He was about to curse when he saw that through the doors of the barn, a sliver of light was illuminating the barn face.  Someone was in there; he could only figure it was her.  She was one of those animal people too – he could only imagine why he had to interact with them so much in the past few days.  Turning and setting his sights on the barn, Archer took a deep breath and bellowed whilst he walked, “Nadge!” his voice was booming in the still night, thankfully, he was a big guy with a good lung capacity, “Nadge! You’re needed!”

Just as quickly and robustly as it had come, the Woodcroft weekend had come to an end.  Keegan had shuffled off to bed almost an hour ago and Tulojow could only guess the combination of exhaustion and sugar crash had dragged him off to sleep rather quickly.  Tulojow was looking forward to following the young man's suit after tending to a few last chores.  Unfortunately, animals' schedules didn't change just because their caretaker had had a particularly long and exhausting weekend. 

Tulojow was moving even slower than usual as she draped a flannel dressing gown over her night shirt over her shoulders and tugged a pair of muck boots on.  She'd even resorted to using her usually ignored walking cane as she limped across the yard to the barn. 

Gelar seemed oblivious to the older woman's exhaustion.  Though the little foal's first few months of life had been touch or go, under the careful care of the mustang surrogate mother, the unicorn-hybrid, who was a result of unfortunate illegal experimental breeding had begun to flourish with a burst of strong energy.  As soon as the barn door was opened, the oddly-proportioned, awkward-looking gold marbled foal burst out of the stable and raced across the yard.  Content the farm's outer fence would keep him contained, Tulojow allowed him and the mare a few moments of freedom, after giving the mare her evening dose of hormones. 

Tulojow had just finished freshening the animals' bedding when she, simultaneously heard someone call her name and the sharp whinny as the foal took notice of the newcomers.  The rough voice gave little indication of whether the visit was a friendly or hostile one, Tulojow limped out of the stables with her cane in one hand and her wand held at the ready in the other.  "Who are ... Radley?"  She called, lowering her wand as she recognized the younger Auror.  In a split second Tulojow took in the auror, the limp sack in his arms, the two figures trudging out of the darkness behind him and the energetic foal who was dancing around all the sudden activity.  "Raynor?" she called to confirm though the darkness. 

She limped across the yard towards the group as quickly as she could, shooing the foal back towards the stable.  As she neared, the limp form became more, obviously, human and, with a muttered, "oh no,"  Tulojow's pace quickened.  "What happened?" she asked to the cluster of people, her brows furrowing curiously as she recognized the student amongst them.  Quickly, she pointed her wand towards the line of trees and, with a flash of white, a bright horned snake-shaped patronus erupted from her wand and took off towards it's target. 

"Take her inside," she said to Archer.  Looking from the student who seemed a breath away from a panic, Tulojow placed a hand on Fauna's shoulder.  "It'll be alright.  Will you give me a hand inside?" she asked, gesturing towards the house.

One of the Aurors mentioned Tulo and Fauna nodded, recognizing the name through a hazy fog of confusion. Raynor’s eyes had been boring holes through her for the past few minutes, but Fauna was blissfully oblivious to her scrutiny, turning to follow their lead without a sign that she’d even heard her.

It wasn’t easy keeping up, though she walked as fast as she could. Her legs responded slowly and she stumbled a little before realizing that she needed to focus on the ground. Fauna did just that, putting one heavy foot in front of the other. Just walk, she repeated to herself, wishing she could cast Lumos.

She froze suddenly. Where was her wand? How could she have misplaced it? Fauna ran a hand over the pocket of her jeans in a panic. Then she glanced at Raynor, realization sinking in, and resumed walking. Her chest hurt and her head started to pound.

After what seemed like ages, the motley group reached Tulojow Nagde’s home. Fauna looked around her, surprised to find they had stopped. If someone had asked her how they’d gotten there, she wouldn’t have been able to answer.

Tulo soon emerged from the barn, rushing towards them when she saw the injured woman in Radley’s arms. Fauna tried to catch her breath, knowing a brisk walk shouldn’t leave her so out of air. She watched Tulo’s patronus soar over the trees and then she looked back at the future healer of Hogwarts. Perhaps that’s why they were here, instead of at St. Mungo’s. She thought the Aurors had said something about avoiding apparation. Fauna focused on the checkered pattern decorating Tulo’s night gown, discerning the colors: green, blue, and… or was that red? She couldn’t tell in the dark. Fauna wished again for her wand.

Raynor still had it. The Auror had ordered Fauna to come with them, though Fauna didn’t see how much help she could be. Then it clicked. They must think she had something to do with it! Horror and dread wrapped around her, stealing any remaining warmth, as if she’d just walked into a mist of dementors.

Tulo then put a hand on her shoulder and said something, but it took her a moment to respond. Inside? They were going into the house now. They had to help the doll- no, the woman who looked like a doll. Fauna blinked at Tulo and mumbled her assent, following close behind her.

"Nadge," came the confirming call as the minute Tamis Raynor came trudging out of the dark.

The journey had been more complicated than necessary; she both praised and cursed Radley’s legs. His long stride had gotten Akiva Katz here faster but as a result, it had forced her to work harder to keep up. He glanced back once, but without commenting. The situation was blissfully far too serious for one of his usual gnome analogies.

 She had tried to illuminate the path for the girl and her as best as possible, but they lacked a path and it had been far too dark. Raynor was not yet content enough to hand the girl back her wand and let her find her own way. So, in the end, there was a good deal of talented cursing on Raynor’s part and, she was sure, a very mutual sense of irritation and frustration. It was relief when the house had finally come into view.

“Missing Person’s case, she’s been missing for about a week.” She filled the healer in as fully but concisely as she could. “We found her this way. We do not know much else,” she looked pointedly at the student with them, “yet.”

The Auror was not yet ready to give up hope that the girl would be a reliable witness. Or be of any use to them, for that matter.

Leaving the student to become the professor’s cane, Tamis hastily followed Archer into the house. Her gaze lit up on the couch first but with Katz’s current hygienic condition it was doubtful that Nagde would appreciate that later. Not to mention it would be easier to look the woman over on a flatter surface. With a wave of her wand she cleared the furniture from the middle of the room, sending it as neatly as possible to the side, but she was in a hurry.

Removing her red cloak, she laid it down on the vacant floor and moved out of the way so that Radley could unload his burden.  With the enhanced lighting, Raynor was able to make out more of her friend’s details than she had in dark. Quelled anger turned in the center of her stomach along with another rising emotion. Her hands were shaking from it and she crossed her arms to hide them, waiting for Nagde and the student to join them. Up to now, Tamis had been hoping that Akiva Katz had somehow managed to wander off and get lost. She could not phantom the woman allowing herself to deteriorate so, not unless someone made her this way. How would she have ended up in Scotland on her own?

“At least she is alive,” she told Archer quietly.

There was no motive for this. That seemed to be a more and more common phrase of late. Kyle Gibson’s case… and now Katz.  Katz, whom as far as anyone knew, did not have any enemies. They had played with the theory that someone might have taken her to gain access to the Ministry Library, but imperiousing her would have been more sensible if that were the case. They even understood that the disappearance might have been of Muggle origin, after all, the woman still had many ties to it. But that would not have put her in the one all magical Village in the United Kingdom. There was a larger picture to all of this; something was hiding under the woodwork. But what?

Archer had a certain instinct for knowing when Raynor was going to do the talking and when he needed to speak up.  As a man of very little to say, particularly in the case of holding a young woman whom they knew very little about at present, though he suspected once they got into proper light they would be able to tell what exactly was the story.  He wasn’t wasting another moment waiting around, however, and turned toward the house once he was instructed to do so.  There was only so much of this that he could take and he really needed to put her down.

Though she was not particularly heavy in any regard, carrying her across Hogsmeade was wearing down on his arms and he knew when he got home or to the office (whichever came first, probably the latter) he was going to have to change.  Thankfully, he kept a spare set of robes and some clothes for just such the occasion.  He wondered if they had anything to put her in once they made sure she was alright – she was not going to want to sit around in those things along longer – and then he wondered where Nadge’s fire pit was so they could burn the offensive garments. 

Standing in the doorway, he was about to remark on where to put her when Ray, with one fell swish of her wand, moved the furniture and laid down her robes.  The woman in his arms, still completely out, shut her eyes tightened and turned toward his chest.  He sighed; at least she was still responsive to something.  That made their job a little easier – he wasn’t going to want to deal with breaking any terribly bad news.  It was the hardest job a person could have, but wasn’t going to be necessary here. 

Finally able to see her, Archer vaguely recognized what he remembered to be the woman from the library – that Akiva Katz.  He had seen her in the ministry once or twice and then Dreogan came in – Archer had been given a description (later a picture), and though she was hardly anything like she had been in the photograph, he could see some of the features that remained consistent.   The most disturbing part of the whole set up was the starkness of her pale skin against the deep red of the auror cloak - if someone wasn't looking hard enough, the velvet-like fabric could almost look like blood.  In her condition, it probably wouldn't have surprised anyone either.  Thankfully, it was not the case.  Shaking his head, he could only imagine what happened to her.  As he shook out his arms, he looked to Tamis who was unusually quiet. 

“Hopefully it looks worse than it is,” he replied solemnly, brushing off the front of his robes and stepping back to allow the girl some room to breathe and for Tulo to come in.  She was hobbling along behind with the witness – suspect – he didn’t know what to classify the bush baby turned schoolgirl as at the moment, and crossed his arms, taking in some details he thought might be useful to remember.  They would have to go back to the shrieking shack to collect physical evidence, he even considered going back himself, but looking at his partner, she was not prepared to do this by herself. 

Give her a nasty looking yeti of a criminal, she could stand her ground and take names, but in the face of a situation that involved a personal issue and though she still remained tough, she would crack a little.  Archer felt the need to stay and make sure all was well.  He also stepped back and held the door for Tulo and the student, since both were occupied enough with the task of getting the healer inside.  “She’s responsive to light,” he informed Nadge when she was close enough, “and if you need me to move her, don’t hesitate to ask.”