He'd dead ended on a couple of his werewolf cases. Ackerly had been busting his ass, chasing leads, and trying to pinpoint some real suspects. This past full moon had not helped. There had been more werewolf attacks than usual. He was blaming the recall on ingredients issued by O Morain farms- and he wasn't the only one blaming it. Ackerly was seriously surprised that the RCMC hadn't gotten further involved to figure out what was going on. But that wasn't his territory- so he kept his mouth shut about it and worked on his own cases. Ackerly had a full plate without taking on the rest of the ministry- as much as he would like to.

The only part of the ministry he had any interest in getting involved with (welcome witch aside) was the Werewolf Capture Unit- more specifically, Bagnold. They shared the same opinion on werewolves. The fish rots from the head, so chop it off. No werewolves, no virus to spread. Kill them all, problem solved. It was not a difficult concept to grasp- so what the hell was wrong with the general populace these days? Werewolf rights? That was absurd. The only thing they had the right to was a quick and relatively painless death at the hands of a competent wizard and law enforcement professional. Like himself.

Case files in arms, he decided to visit Kurby (and his old desk). Comparing notes might get both of them somewhere. They could work together and maybe put a few of them away (or out of their misery if he got his way). "Do you people have anything other than coffee in this department?" Ackerly asked, dropping the files and notes onto the desk and pulling up a chair opposite Bagnold. "Do you know what that junk does to your body?" he asked. But who was he kidding? Ackerly was one of the few health conscious people in the ministry. He didn't drink (often), he watched what he ate, and didn't touch cigarettes or caffeine. Water was his typical choice of beverage. Satisfying, and didn't leave you with a headache.

Ackerly summoned a glass and a pitcher of water, pouring himself some and setting it off to the side. Then he ran his hand across the stained wood of the desk. "I still cannot believe you destroyed my desk. I had that desk since I was a rookie." Oddly enough, he was more attached to the desk than he was to most people- family included. "I was going to pass it off to Malone one day when I retired." If he ever retired. Ackerly would probably get himself killed before he would retire. The sort of guy who didn't know when to quit- he would keep going and going until he couldn't go anymore.

"Rough full moon this time, wasn't it?" he commented, swallowing half the glass in a few gulps and wiping his mouth. "All over the prophet the past couple of days. Damned media likes to make us out to be incompetent buffoons... If it were Radley or Pratt, I'd agree. But you never see a bad word about them. Raynor probably protects her little lover boy from bad press..." he trailed off bitterly. Ever since his overly blunt comments on werewolves in a couple of interviews regarding the mixer and Greyfrair, he'd been the victim of more than a few scathing comments in the prophet and other wizarding publications. It was annoying, but not unexpected. Werewolf rights was a hot topic right now.

He'd been in the office for hours, and his head still hadn't stopped aching.  The weekend had been a little too long, and the several generous cups of coffee that he'd already demolished had done little to relieve either his pounding headache or the splintering pain that came every time someone spoke too loudly or let a door slam shut.

Kurby had collapsed into his desk upon arrival, engulfing himself in the paperwork that he'd had to get into order before his meeting that morning.  The young kids that made up most of the Werewolf Capture Unit had trickled in, chattering and cheerful about their weekends, which made him want to hex each and every one of them when they weren't looking.  There were times when he positively despised his co-workers.  Monday mornings, without a doubt, qualified for misanthropy.

Fox's arrival did not do much to improve his opinion of the rest of the world.  Kurby scowled up at the Auror, shuffling his papers back into a pile to clear space for the older man to join him at his desk. 

"Well, I can't believe you kept on with St. James at the mixer," he muttered, doing his best not to glower in the Auror's direction.  The result of the party - and his co-worker's seeming betrayal - was still a sore subject, although Kurby had been prepared to let it drop after he'd dumped ink all over Fox's desk.  Apparently Fox hadn't been so willing to let go quite as easily; Kurby had come to work the following day to discover that his own desk had been switched with the elder Auror's ruined one.  "It's a goddamned desk.  Who the hell cares what happens to it when you retire?"

Fox apparently did, because he kept prattling on, this time switching topics to the most recent full moon.  Kurby sighed, mentally bracing himself for a long conversation as he ran both hands over his face and attempted to sit up a little straighter in his chair.  Of course the Auror Corps would have the time to care what the bleeding Prophet said about the full moons.  It wasn't like they ever had to keep busy dealing with the attacks as they happened.

"I wouldn't know," he said sourly, reaching for his own pile of paperwork.  "And yeah, it was a bleedin' rough full moon.  If you feel so badly about it, maybe you should join in for the next one, then?" he asked nicely, flipping through the papers until he reached the pages detailing the attacks from mid-November.  "Merlin's beard, why's it taken me this long to realize it?  It's obvious that the only thing we're missin' to keep us from gettin' the job done right is someone dressed all in crimson to cheerlead for us.  Grand of you to volunteer to come along and save us from ourselves, Fox."

Ackerly chuckled. "That old cow? Come on, Bagnold- we both know she's not my type. I prefer a woman with a more ethnic look... And one that isn't quite so obnoxious. There is a difference in a girl who likes to have a little fun, and a woman who likes to devour souls in order to survive. That was your mistake- not mine. You let a woman grab you by the balls, and she's gonna twist them. Learn to be in control, Kurby-Wurby," he snorted, reaching out to pat the man's cheek the same way that Dolly had.

He was obviously offended at Kurby's insinuation that the desk didn't matter. "I care. That desk has been in my life longer than anyone else. And you had to go and ruin it out of spite. Just because some woman got your knickers in a knot is no reason to take it out on me. Do you know how many different ways I could kill with my wand or my bare hands?" he asked. "I'd surmise that it is higher than you can count."

"Now, pleasantries aside, we have work to do," he stated flatly. "And believe me, I would help you with the werewolf wrangling- but Raynor refuses to let me." For good reason. He wouldn't be wrangling so much as he would be out there maiming and killing them. No werewolves, no virus, no problem. "She knows that if she let me out there, I'd put your whole unit out of a job," Ackerly added. "Cause there wouldn't be any weres left to catch."

Spreading out his case files, Ackerly wiped the smirk from his face. "I've got a few cases here, and I think if we compare notes we might be able to figure out what's going on. Especially as far as Greyfriar's case is concerned. People want to know who did it- and we might have some overlapping problems here. Maybe if we work together we can get these monsters off the damned streets and people can sleep a little easier at night."

Kurby glared daggers at the other man, tensing in his chair.  He didn't have anything personal against Aurors.  Unlike plenty of other departments around the Ministry (Magical Maintenance and everyone on Level Seven immediately came to mind), most of Tamis Raynor's men actually had responsibilities and were relatively good at their jobs, motivated as they were by the fact that they'd either be competent or dead. 

From what he could tell, though, the attitude and the ego were issued with the red robes.  Kurby didn't stop himself from rolling his eyes at Fox's promise of imminent death in retaliation for the desk prank.  Sure, the Auror could kill him.  And Albus Dumbledore was waiting tables at the Hogshead on the sly.

"Yeah, and you'd solve the five exceptions to Gamp's Law of Transfiguration and make peace between Muggles and purists while you're at it, won't you then?" he asked nicely, pulling a face again at Fox's matter-of-fact statement that the only thing that stood between lycanthropy and extinction was Tamis Raynor's hand on his collar.  Everyone talked a good game with werewolves.  Hell, some of the blustery idiots might even be able to survive one on their own.  But battling off one werewolf and trying to subdue them night after night when the Ministry was constantly tying one hand behind your back were entirely different.  And even that was nothing like a pack - as much as he might hate to admit it, Kurby was immensely relieved that the WCU's authority began and ended in the United Kingdom.  The wild werewolf clans of Eastern Europe were nothing to half-arse around with.

Cooperation for the WCU was nothing new.  With little authority of their own, they were constantly cooperating: with the Hitwizards, with the Aurors, with Gertrudis, on the rare occasions when they were even let off their leash anymore.  Kurby was getting goddamned sick of cooperating, but despite the egomania, Fox was right.  The Capture Unit was under deadly amounts of strain right now.  If they didn't start getting some breaks soon, someone was going to slip up.  Death - or worse.

He might be willing to cooperate, but he still wasn't going to look cooperative, though.  "I'm not the one prattlin' on  about desk eulogies," Kurby grumbled, making a show of shuffling his stacks of files.  The need to organize them was the only reason he'd made it in to work on time, but he wasn't about to admit that to Fox.  Let the fastidious Auror think that he didn't have his act together. 

"If you want to get to work, then let's get to work, Fox.  Which one did you want to start with, then?  Greyfriar?" he asked, pulling the relevant casefile off the top of the pile.  "What have you got?"

"I've no desire to make peace between Muggles and purists. People are entitled to their own opinions. I think that muggles need to keep their noses out of our business- and I think wizards ought to marry other wizards. There are plenty of good looking witches out there, no need to go looking in a world that isn't ours." Ackerly shrugged indifferently. "Besides, most of the criminals that take up most of our time are purists. I'd be out of a job without them, you know." It wasn't his true opinion on matters, but his thoughts on his capbilities and purists was best not shared with someone he knew to be a pureblood. Even if Kurby did seem to reject that whole lifestyle.

Ackerly watched as Bagnold shuffled his papers around. rolling his eyes impatiently. "Yes, Greyfriar would be a good place to start. Case file # 0567-1249. James McCabe was apprehended, and did not have any recollection of how he wound up in Hogsmeade. Further evaluation caused Mungos staff to believe that McCabe might have had memory modifications. Currently the goal is to figure out whether or not someone else set up the attack, and if they were intentional targets."

"So what I need to do, is figure out whether or not you've got any werewolf attacks that look like that... You guys apprehend weres, you talk to them, don't you? Are there any reports of any other attacks, or any werewolves letting you know that they've found themselves in places that they didn't remember? Specifically any situations of them remembering that they took their damned potions and finding themselves turning anyway?" Ackerly thought it was crock, to be honest. If you took your potions, you didn't change. The werewolf was probably to blame. Willingly letting himself get obliviated, just to let himslf off the hook. It was smart- smart enough to get him off if things went the way that all the werewolf supporters wanted.

"If there is a common link, then we've got some criminal mastermind out there who is using werewolves to hurt and kill people- and that's sick. This is why I think they should just all be put down. If there weren't any damned werewolves, then criminals couldn't do this. Greyfriar was a good man- and now his life is ruined because some fool of a werewolf got duped. Or, supposedly got duped. I respected him, you know. Thought he was doing great things at Hogwarts. I'm glad Snark took over though- and booted that girl out. Wolves aren't the same as us, no matter what they say. They're dangerous creatures, and they shouldn't be allowed to go to school with everyone else. If I found out one of my kids was sharing the halls with one of them, I'd yank them out in a heartbeat." Not that he was really involved in their lives to begin with- but if that happened, he would step in.

"So what have you got going on around that time? Starting in September, and out past October- maybe up through November or this past December. There has to be another situation where the same thing happened. Maybe they tried more than once before succeeding... Wolf hit the wrong target... Plenty of things."

Not even a sarcastic response to the Auror's bluster took the wind out of his sails.  Kurby made a show of rolling his eyes as he flipped through the Greyfriar file, looking over the documentation.  The Werewolf Capture Unit had only retained information about the attack and the actual capture; once McCabe had been secured and identified and the investigation had turned to matters more sinister, it had been handed over to Level Two.

That was typical of life on Level Four.  Anything boring or routine (although, Kurby often thought darkly, there was little routine about man-killing monsters that tried to rip his throat out once a month) was tossed at the feet of the Capture Unit, while the instant that newspapers got involved or things began to look the slightest bit interesting, the Auror Corps would swoop in and snatch it away.  The normal "accidental" werewolf bite or killing never seemed to interest them, but attach Knox Greyfriar's name to it and suddenly you couldn't apparate two feet without appearing on top of someone in scarlet.  The constant glory-hogging was intensely irritating, but it was the sort of irritation that he'd had to learn to live with over the years.  Angering Tamis Raynor's men just made his life miserable until the furor died down.

Fox was at least willing to share information.  Kurby flipped through Greyfriar's casefile, squinting at the writing as he listened to the other man's words.  "Yeah, we talk to the ones that live through it," he replied matter-of-factly, leaning back in the chair so that it teetered on two legs.  "Wolfsbane potion doesn't stop a wolf from turnin'.  There's something new that Level Nine supposedly isn't workin' on that might do that, but it's not out for public distribution yet.  Every registered werewolf gets their wolfsbane directly from the Ministry or a provider that's licensed by the Werewolf Wing.  If we know where McCabe got his from, we could look into that angle."

Thinking about the right or wrong of a 'good man' getting turned wasn't something that he particularly wanted to consider at the moment, and Kurby knew better than to voice any of his personal opinions about lycanthropy and Hogwarts in the middle of the office, especially after the outfall from the Mixer.  But the idea of werewolves as weapons, of things out of the ordinary...  Something about Fox's words hit a too-recent nerve.  Kurby tossed the Greyfriar file onto the desk and began digging through the pile of file folders.  He found what he was looking for a moment later.

"No one's reported anything identical to that," he replied, flipping through the top file and then tossing it down in front of Fox.  "But I've got two that might relate.  First was the Gannon Rosier attack, a few months back.  He was a pureblood."  That fact was relevant, but Kurby didn't particularly feel like explaining why.  Two months had passed and discussing this particular incident still felt too raw.  "We went after the suspect and caught up to what we thought was him on the full moon in October.  But he wasn't alone," he said frankly.  "Group of four werewolves, the damned lot of them had to be on Wolfsbane, the way they were coordinating' and layin' into us.  Killed Harfooey and mauled Ballentyne.  So yeah, I'd say we got some evidence of a werewolf usin' itself as a weapon."

That one still hurt.  Kurby wasn't going to spend any more time thinking about it than he had to, or thinking about how he still hadn't been to see Iona Ballentyne, so he tossed the file down in front of Fox and picked up the second one.

"This one's less obvious, but it's still strange," he said, as he flipped open the file and began a rundown of the facts.  "Day of the same full moon that Greyfriar got bit, back in November.  Someone sent a body to St. Mungo's with an unauthorized portkey and it showed all signs of a werewolf attack, except Bombay put the time of death as bein' during the day.  Another body, similar time of death, turned up in Knockturn.  No witnesses came forward, and anything that looks like a possible werewolf attack usually ends up with us, so we've just been sittin' on it.  But it couldn't've been a werewolf," he said bluntly.  "Not durin' the day.  Best I can think is that it was some sort of unregistered Animagus tryin' to take advantage of the time of the month."

"There are plenty of people out there distributing illegal potions," Ackerly commented. "That O Morain woman has the propensity for it, given all of those ingredients she's got under her belt. But we've been keeping an eye on her and haven't caught her up to anything yet- other than peddling shrunken heads. There is a woman on the watch list who is known to try to brew ministry restricted potions. Dazmond Wiedman-Briggs is her name. Involved with that runespoor smuggling mess, too. Wouldn't surprise me if she was handing out potions for a few galleons." That was definitely one thought to consider.

"Ten to twelve wizards?" Ackerly asked. "Who would have the ability to control a wolf to use it as a weapon? How do you control a wolf when it's been turned?" Just because he was on a lot of cases, didn't mean that he understood everything. Ackerly was the sort to gut the beast first and ask questions later- something that many people resented, but at least it got the job done. Things had been better in his younger days, before this whole werewolf rights crap had gotten to be so popular and was such a sensitive topic. With Greyfriar's attack, it had been thrust even further into the public eye. Now there was that student group on it, parents on it, and the general populace- not to mention the head of the RCMC was also a bleeding furry heart.

"But if someone is using them as a weapon, then the attack could have definitely been planned. But what could someone have against Greyfriar? Why would they want to get him out of office? If they were trying to make a point, they could have at least left a calling card... I guess I should go talk to him, see if he has any idea why someone would want him attacked. Getting him out of Hogwarts doesn't do much other than open up the slot for a new headmaster. I hardly think that Snark would orchestrate a werewolf attack just to become headmistress when she had a good position here already."

Ackerly took the file and pulled it closer to him, examining it, taking a few notes on what was detailed within that might be helpful later. "So we've got Greyfriar and a pureblood who were attacked." He looked at his case file again. "Greyfriar isn't a pureblood. So why is that important? If they were both pure, it would make sense..." It really felt like they were grasping at straws at this point, which was not a good feeling. Ackerly hated not knowing where an investigation was heading. It was frustrating.

But Kurby was soon pointing out a different case. Same full moon, but during... the day? Ackerly scratched his head. "Can a werewolf even attack during the day?" Ackerly asked. "I thought they changed with the moon... Then again, I guess if he's a real cruel bastard he could have attacked them the night before and if they lived just offed them during the day after he turned human again." He liked Kurby's theory better, though, about an unregistered animagus. "Your idea sounds a hell of a lot better though. Some people are just disgusting. Turning into a dog just to run down people- that's horrible. But it wouldn't surprise me. Probably some young, well to do pureblood bastard. The kind that thinks mommy and daddy owes them the world and we all ought to bow down to them. All the worst criminals are pure..."

"You guys do any research on that unauthorized port key?" he asked. "It's not easy to make a port key. Has to be a pretty powerful wizard to do that, or a wizard with some pretty powerful friends or connections."

For all of his overconfident swagger, Fox didn't seem to have much background on lycanthropy.  Kurby gave him a disbelieving look, leaning a little further back in his chair as it balanced dangerously on the two back legs.

"Yeah, imagine them being so inconsiderate that they wouldn't leave us a full-on signed confession," he agreed sarcastically.  If Fox ever caught any dark wizards at all, it had to be through the sheer magnetic force of his ego.  It was all Kurby could do not to constantly roll his eyes when the man went off.  "Maybe when we run 'em down, we should pass on the tip for next time, then?  It'd save the lot of us a bleedin' hell of a lot of work in the end."

He sighed, finally letting his chair back down to the floor as he ran both hands through his hair.  The other half of the Auror's questions were what he'd been mulling over for the past few months.  Werewolves were monsters; he'd known that for years.  But they were a known quantity of monster - they didn't pick and choose their targets, they just killed, attacking anyone unlucky enough to be happened upon.  Pointed attacks, going after specific victims - that hadn't been something that the WCU had really had to deal with since the death of Fenrir Greyback at the end of the last war.

"I couldn't tell you how to control a werewolf," he said, giving a shrug.  "We're more interested in gettin' them on a leash than makin' them sit when we deal with 'em.  All I can think is that it'd have to be dark magic, just as if you were controllin' a wizard.  I don't even know if the Imperius Charm'd work on one.  They're resistant to most magic."  The thought of testing it, preferably on someone as severely irritating as Simon Reid, was tempting, but Kurby knew better than to test his luck by suggesting it to anyone else on Level Four.

"Wolfsbane, though, would let them control themselves," he pointed out nicely, reiterating his earlier point.  "Wolf body, human mind.  And the really feral werewolves, like the packs in Europe, they're gone enough that they can direct themselves even once they turn."  The muscles in his neck tightened as he clenched his teeth briefly together.  "It's been years since we've had a pack like that here in England, though.  Most of ours are strays or over from the continent."

There was definitely an incongruity in the attacks.  Greyfriar, the attack in October...either they were separate incidents or someone was aiming to incite chaos in the magical world.  At least the Auror seemed willing to accept his theory about one possible explanation being an Animagus.  Kurby was far too used to having his ideas dismissed out of hand, and the other man's willingness to listen to the proposal made him relax slightly as he began to flip through the file again.

But the Auror's next words made him freeze.

Kurby did not, in any definition of the word, consider himself a purist.  What parts of pureblood society he took part in, he did not participate in by choice.  Most of his family was still extremely displeased with his choice of career; having the Bagnold name lumped in permanently with werewolves was a point of contention with his older siblings even fifteen years after he'd first joined the DCMC.  But whatever his distaste for purist ideals or pureblood traditions, the underlying meaning behind the other man's words made his blood freeze.  This was about werewolves, not purebloods.

"All the worst criminals are purists," he snapped, heat edging into his voice.  Whatever else the Auror had said was now lost to the ages; the implied accusation had overridden it and made him see red.  "That's what you said earlier, Fox.  Not purebloods.  And as far as I know, it doesn't take a wizarding family to make a well-to-do bastard." 

He was sitting straight up in his chair now, acrimony and resentment making each word sharp as he glared at the other man.  "I must've gotten my memory obliviated sometime in the past ten years, because I seem to remember purebloods fightin' and dyin' right alongside you halfbloods and Muggleborns in the last war."  Kurby sneered at Fox, a growl rising in the back of his throat.  "Or is that just me thinkin' that the world owes me and the rest of you ought to bow down?"

Generally, Kurby was hard to deal with- but Ackerly had been under the impression that they had reached some sort of agreement to work together instead of bickering. Apparenly, Ackerly had been incorrect. Well, if Kurby wanted to be a dick- he could, too. "If you're going to be such an insufferable ass, I'll take my files and I'll have Raynor confiscate yours, and I'll do this on my own," Ackerly snapped back. "I'm trying to play nice and work with you instead of snatching your cases and your glory away. There are certain rules we have to abide by in the ministry, and I work hard to stick to thos rules. Because unlike some of the other aurors on the force, I give a damn about protocol."

The conversation quickly turned back to the cases at hand, and Ackerly tried to dampen his temper. "Well, if wolfsbane lets them control themselves, then it stands to reason imperio might work on a wolfsbaned werewolf. Has anyone ever tried it? There has to be some sort of guinea pig you guys have in a cage to use for stuff like that. Especially if there are experimental potions- they have to be tested on someone... If not, then maybe you guys should think of keeping one as a pet to test your theories on."

The calm didn't last for long. His comment about purebloods seemed to hit a nerve. Ackerly often forgot that he worked alongside them. He didn't particularly hate all purebloods- but he didn't like very many. And, obviously, Kurby had inherited some of the pure traits considering his temper and shitty attitude. "Oh come off it, Bagnold!" Ackerly rolled his eyes at the man's bristling about his comments about purebloods. "Most of the time the phrase is interchangable. Just because you're the exception to the rule doesn't mean I have to be sensitive to it. Tell me how many purebloods you can name who are worth a damn and i can show you ten more who aren't."

"And you must have gotten something from them considering how few people like you. That's definitely a pureblooded trait. You're born thinking you're better than everyone else, so everyone else hates you. Do you even have friends, Bagnold? Sure as hell would explain why you're so miserable all the time. Even your girlfriends hate you, Kurbywurby. That's gotta hurt." Not that Ackerly had much room to talk. His (ex)wife hated him, his kids weren't exactly fond of him either, and even the women he slept with on occassion found him callous and cold hearted. Ackerly didn't have a heart or a social life, it seemed, but he could at least blame it on being an auror. Aurors just didn't have time for lives outside of work.

"Now, can we pull the stick out of your arse long enough to get some work done?" Ackerly asked, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest. "Because if not, I've got much better ways to waste my time... Ways that do not include trying to argue with brick walls."

The Auror's words felt like the verbal equivalent of stuffing a burning salamander down the back of his shirt.  Kurby sat ramrod straight, his gaze locked on the older man, the muscles in his neck tensing to betray how tightly his jaw was clenched. 

Attacks on purebloods were nothing new.  No pureblooded wizard had ever been dragged in front of the Wizengamot and asked to defend his heritage, or sent to Azkaban because their family tree failed to meet some standard.  Kurby had seen what had happened to many of the Muggle-borns during the war; like the victims of werewolves, he had no trouble understanding where they were coming from.  He could understand the comments, but they still set his teeth on edge.  Pureblood society was insular, overbearing, and obnoxious - but it wasn't purist.  He took issue with plenty about it, but the two classifications didn't always go hand in hand.

And while he might be able to breeze by the passing comment made by a Muggle-born, this particular wizard had never earned the right to make them.  Ackerly Fox hadn't stayed and fought during the war.  He'd resigned.  Turned tail.  Left.  Plenty of wizards with magical heritage had stayed on to help Muggle-borns escape, all at great personal risk to themselves, but Fox had scampered off to play house and then come crawling back with his tail between his legs once he thought the coast was clear.  He had as much right to voice anti-purists beliefs as Kurby did if he suddenly started spouting off about magical being rights for house elves.

Which meant that they were through.  Fox had crossed the line, and there was no going back.  Kurby would fight him teeth and nail if he had to, throwing as many regulations and as much red tape in the Auror's face as he could possibly manage.  Fox wanted his records?  Fine.  He'd have to go through two department heads to get it - both of whom, contrary to Fox's insistence that none were worth a damn, were pureblooded and unlikely to sympathize with the other man's argument. 

Hell, if he had to, Kurby knew he could even use Fox's words about testing Unforgivable Curses on werewolves to really take a stand with Gertrudis.  The irony hit him like bile, but it was fitting in so many ways.  It would dump the werewolf rights supporters between the two men like an insurmountable obstacle; at least the idiots would be useful for once.  Fox could complain all he wanted that Kurby was obstructing the investigation, but if the right people in RCMC found out that he wanted the files and were made aware of his vocalized views, he'd never get them.

"Yeah, hope you don't run into any more brick walls, then," Kurby shot back, snatching his files back and organizing them into a haphazard stack.  Fox could launch all of the personal attacks he wanted; even when they hit him like a bludger to the gut, he'd heard them all before.  He was through working with this idiot.  "Have fun hexin' yourself all on your own, Fox.  Or is that a pureblooded trait too?" he snapped, gathering the papers up as he rose to his feet.  "Why don't you go ask both our bosses, since I doubt that all three of us are the exception to your goddamned rule!"

Ackerly rolled his eyes at Kurby's angsty display, standing up when the other man did so. "Way to be an immature prick, Bagnold," he snapped. "But fine, if your damned pride is more important to you than protecting the people who are going to be killed by these loose wolves- that's on your conscience, not mine. I'm sure that neither of our bosses would be glad to hear you'd let a little disagreement prevent you from doing your damned job."

He picked up his own files, tucking them under his arm. "You've got your knickers in a knot for no good reason. Just because I hurt your feelings you're going to act like you've got your period." Ackerly shook his head in mock disappointment. "That's alright. You want to try to get in my way, I'll handle this by myself. I'll just your damned job for you since you guys seem so incompetent with it. Back in the day I took down werewolves left and right. Do you have any idea how many of those flea ridden bastards I've put down for the good of society?"

"I've probably killed more werewolves than you've seen in your life, Bagnold. And I intend to keep doing it. Regulations be damned those creatures don't deserve to breathe- and I know that you agree with me. Before long your department is going to be running special homes for them. Women like Stevenson running therapy groups to help 'em deal with their feelings and stress. Bleeding hearts that don't know what danger is."

"Next time you need someone on your side, or an auror whose willing to work a case with you, don't come looking for me. I take up every werewolf case that Rayor will give me- and I will keep your whole damned department in the dark about it from now on. When they try to ask me anything, I'll tell them that you ruined."

And, since Ackerly was now agitated and childless, he pointed his wand at the folders and papers, shooting a spell to send them flying all over the room. Then he left, heading back up to go whine at Raynor. She wouldn't let Kurby lock him out of the files if she could help it.