6:40 pm Thursday 6th of August 2009
The sun will set at 8:56pm.
It is a full moon tonight.

Wizengamot Junior Elder Knox Greyfriar had been advised by a colleague to wait and allow the full moon to pass before going out on this evening's errand, but ever the attentive Elder the old wizard had insisted that the task must be completed before the weekend in service to the man he was seeking out. 

You see, there was a very old wizard living outside of Godric's Hollow.  He was somewhat of an institution known to the Wizengamot as he frequently requested hearings concerning some grievance or another relating to a very old case.  In the 1950s he'd claimed a wrong-doing had been done him by the Daily Prophet who he believed was curseing their readers via invisible runes and messages hidden in the texts.  The old wizard annually appealed the Wizengamot's ruling in favor of the Daily Prophet, and in the past decade or so the old wizard had become infirm.  To properly serve his legal right to be heard by the court, an Elder had to be sent to his home. 

His home was on an ancient spit of land far from any other place.  It had been made unplottable and so laden down with enchantments and wards against who knows what that Apparition was not possible.  Certainly, he did not have access to the Floo Network either.  Knox Greyfriar would have to visit on foot, a good hours' trek. 

And just like previous times past, a Healer was required to be present to inspect his claims of being accursed.  And that Healer, the one who of late was called from St. Mungo's to consult on all matters Level Two, was Hannah Bombay. 

With whom Greyfriar was now well acquainted.[1]  Knox had never called upon the address he'd left her, and today he wished he had.  It might've given them a chance to clear the air, although both seemed to believe it was the other who owed contrition. 

"So you've read the brief then?  He's in his fifteenth decade," Knox said, about forty-five minutes into their trek into the old wizard's land.  Knox was dressed in the purple robes of a Wizengamot Elder and the hem was getting very soggy from the tall grass and wet earth under his boots.  Under his arm was a heavy stroll nearly two feet long and as thick as a fence post.  It had ornate brass knobs on either end that stuck out from the dragon-hide case.

"And apparently incapable of leaving his hut.  We've been owling him for weeks to confirm the meeting so that accounts for today's hurried scheduling."

Hannah Bombay was a werewolf as well.  She'd revealed as much when she'd come to his house in June, having been turned the night before he'd met her for the first time since she'd grown up.  He wasn't sure who all knew of her curse, but he thought he should re-assure her that they'd be back in time.

"We'll make it back with time to spare."

1.	12 March The Beast Within; 14 June All The Better To Eat You With

"We'll make it back with time to spare." The large grizzly wizard stated, no doubt trying to convince himself as well as Hannah as, for about the fifth time in forty-five minutes, the misplacing of the heel of her boot set her off balance. This, her experience of transforming in the woods and her highly unpleasant trek to Greyfriar’s house not so long ago let Hannah Bombay to one conclusion. She hated the countryside. The young werewolf cursed healer wanted this over and done with as quickly as possible so she could get back to flat ground, her own living room and a cup of tea. Unfortunately the only thing both of them had to look forward to was spending the night naked, howling at the four cell walls that contained them.

Despite the fact that the full moon was not set to rise for another 2 hours, Hannah was feeling the changes. Her eye sight had sharpened, her senses had become more acute and her fuse had greatly shortened. The smells and sounds in the wood were exceptionally crisp and the fact that she was embarking on a 1 hour trek into the middle of nowhere with the grumpy wizard that had never wanted to hear her out was rather infuriating.

“I’ve read his file, yes.” The witch muttered disagreeably as she caught up with the wizard. The heavy robes had now been removed, contracted in size and pushed into the healer’s bag she carried in her hand. “So you’ve had weeks to decide to visit him and you chose this evening, two hours before the full moon?”

“You’re leaving no time for if there is a problem, you would have been better with a healer from spell damage, having read his file, and you could have informed me this would be an off road trek.” The last meeting with Knox Greyfriar hadn’t gone well and Hannah had given up on attempting to be mildly nice now. Greyfriar wasn’t interested in her opinions when she had been nice so now she needn’t try. She could show how displeased she was with the present situation.

Knox rolled his eyes at Bombay's indefinitely disagreeable way to talking to him.  He wondered if she treated everyone this way, with this sort of pompous, offended snark or if it was just a treat reserved for their very special friendship.  None-the-less...

"We're nearly there.  And I'm not about to be derelict in my duties for this curse," he said, referring to their lycanthropy.  "All else being equal, and having not received any word back from Mr Tilberthwaite, this evening presents itself as the best time.  And what's more, this is routine and won't take long at all.  We'll be in and out in twenty minutes," he said.

The path they were on was not so much a path as it was the memory of a path, or bit of bare earth that resembled a path by coincidence.  Knox wondered how the lonely old codger was even getting on so isolated, how he came by the necessities of life and whither he had any family.  None of that was covered in the file, and frankly Knox was quite curious at this ancient wizards' repeated and ruthless petitioning of the court.  Perhaps all three of them had stubbornness in common.

A few moments more and Knox's boot set foot on - Merlin's bones! - a paving stone.  A lonely cobble, broken in two and embedded deep in the compact earth.  And then, a few paces later there was another, and another, and soon they were coming in twos and threes.  Not long after it was a proper brick path they were walking on, bowed and gutted, completely uneven, but as straight as an old Roman road.  It was hard to mistake that they were nearly there even though bush branches and low-hanging boughs still impeded their progress.

"I have no idea why they asked for you," he thought he should mention.  "Perhaps it's your bedside manner."

He smiled at her, his ivory white teeth stark compared to his dark beard.

The same thoughts that were swimming in Knox Greyfriar’s mind also drifted into his companion’s. After the thoughts of sore feet and struggling to break through the bramble in the wake of the much larger wizard, Hannah wondered how a man in his 140s actually managed to survive out here in the middle of nowhere where she longed to hear the sound of a muggle vehichle passing, it’s obnoxiously loud end jean roaring along a muggle made road. A man of one hundred and forty surely required more assistance than the annual visit from a wizengamot member and a healer as he made yet another appeal.

Hearing the comment from the older wizard, Hannah’s eyes shot up from the newly forming path and her carefully treading feet to greet his gaze. The bright white teeth came as a mild surprise as they contrasted greatly with the unkempt dog clinging to his chin. The healer had never taken much notice of this particular wizard’s appearance. Hairy, tall and imposing had been the only things she had really remarked upon. His teeth, she had simply expected to perhaps be yellowing, brown to go with his demeanour towards her, an unruly grumpy old man. She certainly hadn’t seen a smile on him lips since she was 17 and very much doubted she’d ever brought one to his lips, genuine or fake. The smile made him look less wolf more human.

Yet it didn’t matter. He had still informed her it was something about her bedside manner that had caused them to ask her along for the unpleasant trek and rather pointless case. “Well I’m sure he’ll make for a far less averse patient than yourself, Greyfriar. There is nothing wrong with my bedside manner when I have a patient who acts their age and does as I instruct, sir”

The witch glanced around to the wizard, her features expressionless. “Gargling is a perfectly acceptable request that most individuals will readily oblige without causing a superfluous scene.” Eyes strayed from the wizard and fell on the house finally appearing through the bushes. Not that one could really label it a house. It resembled it’s former state as a cottage and quite literally looked like the earth had began to eat away at it, sucking the tiny building down into the ground and allowing the greenery to envelope it, weeds seeping into the cracks.

“Someone lives in that, Knox?”

For the love of - gargling again? The damned gargling again.  Knox Greyfriar's smile was immediately gone when the little Healer brought up once more a day that Knox would have preferred to forget forever.  And that becursed, humiliating gargling! A horrid tether that bound them together, the most disagreeable companions they were.  If not for that one day they probably would have been very happy not knowing each other at all.  But now, thanks to gargling they were forever linked.  What unlucky star was that, anyway?

And then there it was.  You might have mistaken it for a pile of rubble, so entangled and nearly reclaimed by the earth the house was.  Knox's thick dark eyebrows lept up and he paused in his steps.

"Or so we're informed..."

Taking a moment now that they were here, Knox took out his wand and straighted himself up.  He dried the hems of his robes and flicked away brambles and needles that had come to rest on the heavy material.  He checked again the giant scroll he had with him - a sort of proxy for Wizarding Law through the ages. 

"Shall we?"

Both apparently ready to do their duty, Knox lead the way to the house.  When he arrived at the door, he saw no lights on inside, the windows covered from within by curtains or without by ivy.  The door itself only came up to Knox's shoulders!  So old and small and sunken was the house.  Knox rapped on the door in the loudest and friendliest way he could.

"Mr Tilberthwaite, Wizengamot calling!" he called through when no one immediately answered.  "We couldn't contact you by owl," he bellowed mildly through the door in explanation.  "Are you at home? We're here to serve your petition, sir!"

The only sound in response was birds chirping around them.

Greyfriar looked over to Bombay and frowned.  Where else could he be?  He opened his mouth to propose they check around the back when a ground-shaking crash came from within.  Knox was startled and stepped a pace back from the door.  The crash had come and gone quickly and all was silent inside.

He banged on the door again, this time more urgently.  "Mr Tilberthwaite, are you alright? Mr Tilberthwaite!"

As Knox Greyfriar trussed over his robes, flicking his wand at them to scatter the leaves that had attached themselves to the hem, Hannah considered that he should have taken as much care over pruning his bushy facial growth. They may have turned into wolves once a month but Hannah certainly took care not to look like one the rest of the time. He soon focused his attention and the scroll and as Hannah stared through the trees at the ground swallowed house, she let go of the bag in her hand, allowing it to float obediently at her side.

The healer slowly followed the Elder towards to house, her bag bobbing up and down in the air behind her. The house was something from a book, Bombay never having actually seen anything quite like it. She’d been amazed Greyfriar managed to live in his shack without the space to suitable swing a squealing cat but this was certainly something else. It seemed to be that the earth wanted this house gone, out of sight from the world.

The hairs on the back of Hannah’s neck and on her arms pricked up at the thought of the earth swallowing this house and whoever, whatever was inside.

The answer to Greyfriar’s bellowing certainly hadn’t been the expected response. The shock of the crash sent Hannah tripping back, catching her heel on a bramble as she fell against a tree. Greyfriar hammered against the door once more and Hannah quickly stepped closer.

Before she could really process what she was doing, Hannah pulled her wand from her pocket and had it pointed at the door.
“EXPULSO!” The tiny healer roared and a light shot out from the tip of her wand, narrowly missing her former professor and blasting the door inwards. She made no move after this, however. Instead the young witch stared aghast at the imploded wooden door and the product of her first successful attempt at ‘Expulso’.

"Oh."

Knox Greyfriar looked back at the Healer who seemed just as surprised as he did that she'd cast a door-breaking-down charm.  He didn't look mad, but, "I might have begun with Alohomora...," he suggested lightly.

Then he looked back into the dim house inside, at the  busted-up door laid out before them like a welcome mat.  Still, there was not a sound, no signs of life from inside the house.  "Well..." 

Elder Greyfriar felt that it would be prudent to invite themselves in.  Best case scenario - Tilberthwaite was home and they'd be apologizing.  Worst case scenario - something was wrong and they'd acted prudently.  Well not necessary prudently but in good faith.

He stepped over the threshold, ducking beneath the low door lintel.  The house was full of stuff.  Every nook, cranny, shelf and table top was covered in all manner of objects of such varied nature that defied summary or generalization.  The ceiling was low and only dim light leaked through the obscured windows.  Knox couldn't see far beyond the small room they had entered, but a flight of stairs went, presumably, up; and a portal must lead into a kitchen. 

"Hello?" he called into the house.  "Wizengamot calling at your request, Mr. Tilberthwaite. Are you within, sir? We heard a noise!"  He took a few more steps in and listened intently for any indication that someone was responding.

But...there was nothing.  And nothing in plain sight that would indicate the cause of the crash.

Another glance back at Hannah, perhaps looking for validation that they had good cause to have broken and now entered the old wizard's house.  He took out his wand and lit it with Lumos and with a shrug stepped through the main room towards the kitchen. 

"Merlin's bones..." His great bulk nearly filled the entry way into the kitchen that was slightly sunnier.  He'd stopped and with the flick of a finger he beckoned Hannah over.  "Or rather...someone's bones..."

As soon as Hannah stepped smart boot into the house after Knox, she wanted to leave it. The urge to turn around and head back to somewhere she could apparate was excruciatingly strong. The prospect of venturing further into a house full of clutter and dust was mildly unbearable. Hannah hated disorder, she hated untidiness and she hated dust. Entering Knox Greyfriar’s hut had been uncomfortable enough for the witch but this made his shack look like an Arabian palace.

"Merlin's bones..." the large wizard spoke into the kitchen and interrupted Hannah’s studying of the bookshelf in the crowded room where she stood. The small witch turned to see him beckoning her through the cubby and into the kitchen. Fortunately for Hannah, the sunken level of the house didn’t inhibit her, being just the perfect height. She stepped through the galley way and into the mildly brighter kitchen to stop dead, eyes glued on what lay before the pair of visitors.

The witch inhaled a quick breath before allowing her gaze to focus on the skeleton.

“You’ve been sending letters to a deceased wizard for six weeks and three days.” Hannah stated as her eyes scanned across the practically decomposed corpse ling across the armchair. “He died six weeks and three days ago. Give or take a day.” The sight in the kitchen had certainly not been expected but a dead body had never once fazed the young witch. For years she’d chosen to work solely with the deceased. Yet this really was rather different. She’d never encountered the deceased when prepared for a living hypochondriac.

Bombay stepped past Greyfriar, closer to the body. She waved a hand, indicating he bring the lighted wand closer before soft features creased into a frown. A thin hand reached out and she traced a finger along the second rib in his rib cage. The finger was lifted to light brown eyes and the witch frowned deeper, staring at the glittering liquid seeming to sizzle on her fingertip.

“It wasn’t a natural death, either, Mr Greyfriar.”

And as if the unexpected hadn’t graced them enough this evening, a loud bang resounded around the house, causing the sinking building to shake for a mere second before the floor seemed to go from beneath them and they sank further into the ground.

Knox watched with surprised admiration as Hannah Bombay didn't recoil, but instead went past him to inspect the remains of Mr. Tilberthwaite.  He didn't understand - the owl post time-line didn't match up, but bristly Bombay's credentials were not to be doubted.  But before Knox could move forward with sorting out how to contact Level Two as soon as possible, they suddenly had bigger problems on their hands.

The house heaved mightily and Knox had to steady himself against a door frame.

He and Hannah were both stone silent in the moments that came right after, both of them watching and waiting.  And then.  "Bombay -!"

The house lurched again! This time more violently than the last time and they were surrounded by an angry din. 

"It's coming down!" Knox shouted and lunged forward trying to make his way back to the door.  But he only got a few steps before a massive bookcase toppled in front of him.  A near mess, but the shaking didn't stop.  Above them, celing beams were whining and buckling, plaster was falling and the walls were cracking.  The floor boards rose and fell. 

"Earthquake!" Knox shouted.  "We have to get out!"

But he wasn't correct.  It wasn't the earth that was moving, it was the house.  Collapsing in on itself by some magical curse, attempting to swallow up Mr. Tilberthwaite and both intruders. 

Another giant crash sounded as more of the house collapsed down on Greyfriar and Bombay.  And then, the floor gave way. 

Into the cellar Greyfriar fell.  He didn't have time to cast a spell to help him; in fact, his wand had flown from his grip and was missing by the time he landed painfully in the dark wet basement. 

The clamor and chaos continued all around him.  It seemed like forever before the sound seemed to stop and Knox couldn't see anything.  It was pitch black.

"Bombay!" he asked into the dark, a cross between a shout and a hiss.  He coughed.  His lungs were filled with dust. 

"Bombay, augh!"  He'd tried to move, but a pain in his leg stalled him.  "Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

As Greyfriar quietly called for his companion in the dark cellar; she lay unconscious metres from him.

Everything was dark, pitch black and silent. As she came to, Hannah blinked a few times trying to adjust to the darkness but it didn’t help. The dust in the air caused the witch’s eyes to become sore and her whole body throbbed from the fall through the floor and onto the stone cellar floor.  With a heart beat rivalling that of a dragon in labour, Hannah pushed herself to sit up, gasping at the pain flooding through her head and further disorientating her.

A hand reached up to her head and eyes widened considerably in the darkness as thin fingers swept across a warm liquid dampening her hair and dripping down the side of her face. A whimper escaped her lips as eyes began to fill with scared tears for the first time in probably a lifetime.

“Greyfriar...” Hannah tried to call out before coughing on the dust. Realising her wand wasn’t in her grasp, her hands began to desperately search the floor. She pushed herself up onto hands and knees, smoothing her hands against the rubble covered ground in her radius.

“Greyfriar!” The desperation in the healer’s voice was unmistakable. In the panicked searching through the plaster and bricks, her hand landed on something that she was very relieved to feel.

Thin fingers enclose around the handle of an unfamiliar wand and thoughts of where her own had landed were put aside as the witch whispered “Lumos” into the air. What appeared in the light before Hannah’s tear filled eyes made her gasp once more.  Yet without a moment’s pause, on hands and knees she crawled across the fallen in ceiling to her former teacher.

A hand was placed on the wizard’s shoulder, making the first physical contact she ever willingly made with a person. “D-don’t move, Sir. You’re haemorrhaging.”

In the stark wandlight of Lumos-light, Hannah Bombay surely saw an old man who was not suited for this kind of adventure.  He wasn't prepared, today, for this kind of trauma, and he felt addled and shocked and frightened.  But he was glad to see the light, light cast from his own wand.  In any other circumstance, such handling of another's wand was a shocking faux pas, but now? He was very happy to see it.  And happy to see Hannah Bombay.

His chest rose and fell with panicked breathing and his face was twisted in pain and fear.

"You're bleeding!" he said in return as Hannah crawled towards her.  He disobeyed and tried to right himself somewhat, but every movement seemed to involve the participation of his knee no matter how gentle he tried to be.  "Blast! The sodding knee...!"  he moaned.  Bombay was right.  He was bleeding badly from his leg.

"The house collapsed on us! Swallowed...!" he stammered trying to talk his way into a solution or evaluation of the situation.  "Damn stupid old man's booby trap! Kind of thing shouldn't be allowed - aw hell.  This better not be broken! We have to get back!  Damnation, we have to get back.  Can you Apparate - no! Don't.  You'll splinch.  You're bleeding, Bombay!"

Gone was any reserve from the normally verbose old wizard, the cool head the quick tongue that had once been the Headmaster's.

Her head was a whirr. The rushed words coming from Greyfriar didn’t seem to completely register as Hannah knelt beside him. Her bloody temple throbbed excruciatingly but she made no move to sort it. Instead tear filled eyes remained on the wizard for whom she normally shared a mutual dislike.

A glance over the wizard’s leg told Hannah his knee was in a very bad condition. He wasn’t going anywhere soon and with that realisation the witch let out a soft whimper. This wasn’t supposed to happen! They were supposed to be on their way back to the ministry to spend the night safely in their cells, not bleeding under a collapsed house.

“Shh.” The witch hissed, moving her cold hand from Knox’s shoulder to his thigh just above his knee, a gentle gesture to tell him to remain still. “You’re bleeding far more than me, Greyfriar.” After all, Hannah could see his blood; as long as she couldn’t see her own and she was still conscious she was fine. The young witch just wanted out of the situation. Dead people Hannah could handle. She handled the injured living people with a cold detachment and always got the job done perfectly. She rarely showed much more emotion than irritation. This was certainly not normal as she was losing further grip of her control. Situations like this weren’t supposed to happen to book worms.

The tip of Greyfriar’s wand was pointed at his leg and with a quick mutter; the robes were further lacerated and pulled apart so the young witch could get a better look at the damage.

“Shit,” was the only word that escaped her lips for the next few moments as she stared at his bloody limb.

Protruding from the kneecap was quite obviously part of the deceased wizard’s shattered femur bone. That had certainly been the least expected cause of injury. Perhaps it was best not to inform Greyfriar specifically why he was in so much pain right now.

Hannah Bombay took a deep breath before she shuffled forwards and lifted her right knee up. This knee was placed on Knox’s thigh and pushed it down with her full weight. “Close your eyes and stay still, Greyfriar.” The tiny witch informed her former teacher, trying and failing to sound like her confident, well put-together self, “and don’t bite your tongue off.”

Without waiting for a reaction, Bombay took hold of the bone and pulled.

The Healer seemed more adjusted to high-pressure trauma situations than the Wizengamot Elder.  The last fray had been the night he was bitten by a werewolf and he wasn't like to see that kind of heroics again anytime soon.  His ration of that kind of thing was used up and he did not like where he was.

And so Bombay began to tend and hurry about his leg as Knox started to feel light headed.  He rambled at her as she inspected it.

"We've got to find a way to send up red sparks.  A Patronus maybe - I never did learn that trick with the messenger.  Is it broken? This is not a good time! We need to do something to get out of here.  Here, hand me my w-AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Knox was interrupted by his own bellowing cry of agony as Hannah Bombay swiftly and mercilessly set his bone.   The large man was gasping in pain, wetness in his eyes and his hands grasped around his thigh.  His head lolled on his chest as he tried to deal with the wave of nausea and engrossing, brain-swallowing pain. 

Through gritted teeth, he swore and called Hannah a 'barbarian', but otherwise he did well not to lash out at her hasty, battlefield triage.  He grabbed for his wand, and still breathing heavily in the dark, he extinguished the light.

For a second it was dark again, pitch black.  And then...

"S-staima."[1]  A soft sparkling light illuminated his knee eeriliy as the spell took effect, keeping him from bleeding.  It was only a modest application and it might not hold for long.

"W-we have to get out of h-here," he said re-lighting his wand.  "And you're still bleeding.  Look, feel, gently."  Knox's eyebrows were bent up in concern.  With the wand-light trained on her head, he saw that it wasn't just a scratch, but that there was a shard of glass sticking out of her head. 

1.	The Blood Staunching Charm, one Knox learned in his days as a Healing apprentice.

The roar had been rather ear-splitting and it only made Hannah’s head hurt even more. Her features had already been screwed up in the effort to pull the bone from it’s place lodged in Greyfriar’s knee. If they had have been in the hospital with adequate lighting and time Hannah would have used magic, easily it painlessly from its new location. As it was the wand she was holding was foreign, something that wouldn’t react well to a different holder using it on its owner and it was too dark to truly see anything even with the use of lumos.

But once the wizard was silenced he took the wand from the witch kneeling beside him and extinguished the light. She frowned for a moment, feeling extremely dizzy all of a sudden. As Knox tended to his leg in the darkness, Bombay fell sideward onto the cold rubble covered floor and put a hand out to stop herself fully losing balance. Her wish to get out of the present situation was replaced with a struggle to remain conscious.

"W-we have to get out of h-here," Greyfriar stated as the light was reignited and pointed in the witch’s direction causing her to squint at him. With reluctance and a deep wariness, Hannah very slowly carried out the orders of her former teacher. A hand was lifted to her head very slowly and it her fingers graced across the blood she’d felt earlier. The only difference was, earlier she hadn’t been prepared to find out what it was. As she let her fingers slowly trail up through the matted hair this time, Bombay began to feel very ill.

Thin fingers felt glass and within moments any of the colour that had been in her cheeks drained and her eyes widened in realisation. “Kn-Knox....” a whimper escaped the young witch’s lungs as her eyes began to fill up with tears. The cold emotionless healer that knew how to heal any physical condition was gone replaced by a terrified witch in her early twenties, just like every other young witch.

The two of them were changing places, back and forth, over and over.  One acting as the Healer, acting on their training while the other receded into panic.  And then the roles reversed.  And reversed again.   Knox's ancient background of being an apprentice Healer in his youth (the experience marred at his cowardly choices) was difficult to access, but it was easier now since he'd had to use his skills more recently, to tend to his wounded boy for those few weeks.

But everything was made more complicated because of the physical trauma they'd both sustained, and the impending, inescapable moon rising. 

"No! No no, Bombay.  Hannah!"  Knox reached out for her, hoping to lay a hand on her shoulder and try to calm her down.  But he was no type of calm himself.  Every motion jarred the bone - he'd have to numb it, but that was tricky magic he wasn't trained in.  "Come back, look at me," he pleaded, trying to bring her back to focusing.

"You're going to be f-fine, just stay c-calm.  Don't panic."  Rich coming from a wizard whose voice was shaking so much as his.

"We have to get out of here.  We can't transform here.  Look.  Can you see a way out? Here, take my wand."  He handed it over to her.  But he felt like he already knew.  There wasn't a shred of light coming down into the collapsed cellar.  And unless either of them wanted to risk Apparating out of a severely entrenched acreage, they were stuck.  But he had to be sure.