"Are you sure, Agent Potter? This is not just a case of amateur nerves and an overactive imagination?"

Harry bristled slightly, "I'm sure, Ma'am, it was a wand, he used it while transformed."

Amelia lowered herself to sit neatly in front of the fire. She took her time, allowing a moment to ponder the situation. Normally, she'd just tell them to get the bloody job done, but Harry was just a week out of training, and if his suspicions were correct...it might be something they'd never dealt with before. Plus, it would look bad if they lost the famous Potter on his first mission out.

"Alright Potter, I'm sending in some reinforcements with this." Harry looked like he was about to argue, so she continued quickly;

"No, Potter, whatever you're about to say - I don't care. If, and I do mean, if, you are correct then this is a phenomenon that we have yet to see. I cannot have a wet-behind-the-ears, just out of training Auror to wrestle with it. No, I will send Proudfoot to you. He will be briefed immediately and as the senior officer, will commence full control of the assignment. Hereby, you are to stand by until his arrival, and will complete any and all orders he gives you." Here, she softened slightly, "I know how much it means to young Aurors to prove themselves, but the success of the mission is always paramount, regardless of ego. You have all the time in the word to prove yourself, Potter, if you don't think you have already. But move in rashness, and forever all you'll have is a hole in the ground. Dismissed."

Harry flopped onto his backside, to say he was disappointed was an understatement. Like all new graduands, he'd been intensely eager for his first mission, to use all the raw skills just taught, to prove that it wasn't just luck with Voldemort, that he could hold his own, and didn't need a cohort of wizards around him to sacrifice themselves for him. He sipped his cooling tea, and wondered how everyone else was doing. Both Ron and Luna had graduated at the same time as Harry, as had Draco, which was even more surprising than Luna. The bitter dislike between them was still very prevalent, but the edges of the gulf were slightly improved, as Draco had found a talent for healing, and had specialised this area as part of his Auror training. Luna had specialised in potions, immensely helpful for duel preparations. Ron took interest in the more martial aspect of being an Auror, and the slightly tubby wizard at the end of Hogwarts battle had become fit and lean. Harry didn't have a specialisation. A topic which was slightly raw for him. He seemed a Jack of all Trades, his mother and father had excelled in Charms and Transfiguration, but Harry didn't have a particular knack for either. His wand-work was passable, as was his skills in survival and navigation. He could swim okay, he could interrogate suspects okay, but it seemed the only thing that had made him special was the fading scar on his forehead. Feeling particularly dejected and sorry for himself, he went downstairs to the pub in search of food.

An hour later and three quarters through some deliciously greasy fish 'n' chips, Harry felt the watch on his arm warm, this was a subtle form of communication inspired by the 'smart' watches of the muggles. Agent Proudfoot must have arrived, and so Harry wiped his mouth off and headed back up to his room. As he opened the door he was greeted by a sullen-looking wizard of about forty, with a keen intelligence in his eyes. They were piercingly blue, and shone right out of an otherwise plain face. He wasn't a large man, but still slightly taller than Harry, and wore deep purple robes, partnered with a leather belt that was inscribed with runes.

"I'll be honest with you, Potter; I don't believe you." Was his greeting.

"Yeah, I'd not have believed me, either. Did Bones tell you everything?"

"She told me the gist of it, but I'll need to go over your notes for the perp'."

"On the desk."

"Merlin, these scrawls are damn near unreadable. But I guess you did grow up with muggles…"

Harry looked sheepish but otherwise ignored the jab. It would do no good to get snooty with his senior officer.

"Hmpf, more detailed than I expected. Have you tracked his patterns, his haunts? Spoken to the public? Do you know his schedule? Anything unusual? Apart from the obvious."

Harry answered at once, almost mechanically. He was actually feeling better after the rest and food, and being heckled and tested reminded him of this training days, and so as he answered, he began to feel a little more in control.

"His most frequented place was this pub, hence why I rented the room atop. But a week ago he stopped coming. I spoke to the barman, who knows him by sight and name but nothing else. Says he buys the same drink each time. But nothing since last Tuesday. This is why I went out of town looking for him last night.

He has a drinking buddy, who still comes around every evening after five, I've tried several times to approach him, but found him...abrasive. I followed him to a house across town, looked ordinary. I watched it for a few hours, and saw nor heard nothing, there were no spells on the house that I could detect. He's either a muggle, or, very good at not using any magic at all, not even to refill his beer when the barkeep's not watching."

"Hmpf. Adequate. I guess a few things do sink into the thick skulls of the young." The skin at the corners of Proudfoots eyes crinkled, and Harry decided he quite liked this wizard. In a small way, the gruff-ness slightly reminded him of Moody, well, a decidedly less mad Mad-Eye Moody.

"I was pulled off quite an important case to come here. My suspicions believe that this was probably no more than a trick of the eye, but my gut says Amelia wouldn't of wanted to completely waste my time. We're to do this by the book. We will check over your supplies and get ready to head out tonight and bring this Raff in, errant wands or nay."

The afternoon passed quickly as the wizards prepared themselves Harry had followed instructions and brewed up a non-too shabby Pepperup potion. It's be invaluable in the early hours of the morning and the steam from it helped keep the wizards bouncingly busy until then. Proudfoot had transfigured his fat shoes into more rugged waterproof boots. He'd then thudded downstairs to talk to the bartender himself. He returned with a map of the outlying town, which included the forest Harry had followed Raff into the previous night. They worked in relative silence, Harry watched carefully as Proudfoot used a spell (Topocodify!) which turned the map 3D, and showed the lay of the land. Proudfoot had noticed his interest, and had taken a few minutes to show Harry the proper wand movements required for it. Proudfoots plan followed after - they would enter the forest in parallel, spread fifty metres out on either side of the suspect. The forest had been chosen as they could not chance apprehending the now high-risk target in the confines of the town with its many watching, very muggle, eyes. They would angle in slowly on approach, quietly moving in closer to Raff until in clear spell range, hopefully before true night fell and he transformed. There was no full moon tonight, but neither had there been last night when Raff had attacked. Both the Auror's knew of Fenrir Greyback, and how he'd been so close to the beast inside that the could for a transformation on any night. Raff seemed nothing like this, but they'd agreed that Raff was unpredictable as he was still so newly infected. Random transformations were still likely for at least the first six months, as the wolf inside matured from a pup, similar to how a newborns sleep patterns slowly normalised. Sneaking in close was a high priority, so they were equipped lightly, preferring to sneak ably than to be overburdened with equipment.

They traveled to the outskirts of town at dusk, spelling their clothes to not rustle, and Harry remembered this time to pre-emptively mask their scents. They took up positions apart and began to watch for Raff.