A loud knock on his office door caused Frederick Sable to leap up with such intensity that he sent most of the contents of his desk flying across the room. He pinched his eyes and blinked a few times before straightening his tie and hair.

"Come in, please."

A lanky, mousy-haired witch slipped into the room nimbly. Her thin arms were wrapped tightly around a mountain of paperwork and photographs, which she laboriously lifted and dropped onto Sable's already-busy desk.

"I'm sorry, they're so heavy." The woman nervously mumbled, pulling her obnoxious powder-blue cardigan tighter around her shoulders. She wore glasses with incredibly thick lenses, and they made her eyes seem tiny and cartoonish. Her skin was a dark, warm brown color and Frederick had always thought she had the potential to be quite pretty - if she would toss aside her loud clothing and gigantic glasses.

"It's okay, Beth. What have we got here? What's all this about?" Sable had to actually dig his coffee cup out from under the growing pile of paperwork on his desk. Normally, he would have been at least slightly annoyed at the disorganized state of things. Today, the small bit of chaos on his desk actually served to distract from far greater - and darker - chaos in the world.

The man stole a quick sip of his coffee before gesturing at the chair across the desk from him.

"Please, sit!"

The woman obliged. As she plopped down in the ancient, cushioned armchair, a large plume of dust shot into the air. Both host and guest stopped moving for a second and watched the cloud gently fall to the ground before continuing.

"Well, Sir, as you know, we didn't get much useful information out of the muggles before we had to - well, we - before the.." The woman stared nervously and seemed to almost tremble slightly as she spoke. Her dark brown eyes never seemed to stop darting around Frederick's face. Analyzing, searching, seemingly begging for any facial response to her words.

"- before the Obliviation." Frederick stated firmly, unsure of why she had avoided the word. "Yes, it is unfortunate."

"Yes. That. Well, we have been contacted by another witness, sir. A squib!" Beth face lit up as if she were discussing her favorite film. She had a particular fondness for muggles, as did the Auror in front of her. She had actually followed Frederick, years earlier, when he had transferred from the Office of Muggle Artifacts. She would have liked to remain, but she found many others within the Ministry incredibly hard to work with. She enjoyed the way that her boss had handled her in conversation - gently, but with respect. Many others took advantage of her slight demeanor and used it to their advantage in the work place. Intimidation, threats, speaking loudly - all of it drove the woman absolutely mad.

The Auror Office had scoffed at her transfer request, initially. She had been well-known as the small, sometimes kooky woman to talk to about muggle things. Trying to figure out what a pet rock was for? Beth had owned several. Confused about a particular term the muggle youth had started using? Beth had probably heard of it. Having issues getting information out of a cell-phone? The young man knew everything about gigabits and wife-eye. She was known as being very knowledgeable - within her own area of study.

They had been absolutely blown away at the results of her aptitude tests. She quickly proved herself to be one of the most qualified individuals to apply for the program in years. Despite the bookish, silly air that seemed to surround her, she was actually a very capable witch.

"A squib? Really? Why didn't we meet with him that night?" Sable could hardly remember if he had slept at all since that night. No, he realized, probably not more than a couple of hours. Between the interviews, and the searching for evidence, and the losing of that damn notebook..

"Her. We didn't meet her that night, because she was not there. She has seen him - it -" The words seemed to smash into each other like a car pileup as Beth clearly did not want to say his name, "She has seen what the muggles saw, but somewhere else. She lives in Bradford. She saw him in Bradford."

The woman closed her mouth tightly, acting as if she had just spoken a swear word in the presence of the Queen.

Francis sat back for a second without speaking, locking eyes with his assistant for a moment to show that he had understood what she said. He placed a single finger to his lips as he considered this turn of events. There was no way that any of these people could have seen Grindelwald, yet all of their stories were consistent. The muggles had had no way of even knowing of the many before they night he came to Halifax.

None of it made any sense. Even if, somehow, Grindelwald had brought himself back from the dead - how likely was it that he did so just to perform magic in front of muggles in Halifax? Or visit a squib in Bradford? Similarly, who would go through all of the trouble to pose as a long-dead dark lord, just to show himself to a bunch of people who did not appreciate his disguise? Frederick took another sip of coffee. He had had many strange cases throughout the years, but never one that seemed both huge and insignificant at the same time like this one did.

"What, exactly, did she see?" Sable looked down at the pile of papers the woman had brought in. He hoped that there was a photograph, or a transcript - a very detailed and thorough description of what this woman had seen. The stuff at the top just seemed to be more of what he had already seen - witness reports from muggles, and photographs of the wind blowing through frozen grass.

"Well, she didn't say. That's the problem, sir. She said she would only tell you - well, you or Mr. Potter." Beth's gaze moved to the floor, as if she had made the absurd request herself. She had taken her wand out and was twirling it anxiously between the fingers of her left hand as she spoke.

"What? Me or - or Mr. Potter?" Frederick voice dropped when he spoke Harry's name. Potter was a good man, and a great leader. His ascension to Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been generally regarded as a great choice. It had been just seven months since he had taken over the position. Almost everyone within the department thought very highly of the man, and of course everyone knew that he had more experience than the rest. If anyone knew the dark arts - and how to combat them - it was Harry.

Frederick was a couple of years Harry's junior. Having been at Hogwarts for most of his trials and tribulations, the Auror had nothing but respect for the man. They had even become fairly good friends in their time together in the Auror department. Not the sort of friends that saw each other much on weekends, but they definitely were at ease in each other's company. In his years as an Auror, Sable had proved himself to be one of the most thorough investigators the department had. He had cracked many well-known and high-profile cases while working under Potter, and the man had noticed. They definitely shared a mutual respect.

Why, of all people, would this squib insist upon talking to one of them? Potter, in his move up at the Ministry, was not even doing field work as an Auror any more. Frederick himself was well-known for having cracked a case or two, but he was hardly as well-known as his boss. He did not know why anyone would mention the two of them together.

"Are we sure that this woman is serious? Is she sane?" Sable looked back at the Auror-In-Training and somehow it seemed that her anxiety had become contagious. It had been years, yes, but any case that involved Harry Potter directly was definitely a doozy. At best, it would be important. At worst? Important and very, very dangerous.

"Is there any -" Sable prodded the pile of paperwork in front of him with a thin, pale finger, "evidence?"

"Well, sir, no. I brought you the new reports from our field Aurors. They have analyzed the witness interviews and photographs, and have provided an idea of what happened in Halifax." Beth blinked Sable's confusion. To her, apparently, it seemed perfectly normal to bring a pile of unrelated paperwork with important news such as this.

"But, there is one more thing. She says - She says she has something for you." The woman stopped twirling her wand and for a moment, the anxiety seemed to leave her. The air felt a little lighter for a second, as if gravity had let up on it's pull, slightly. She always seemed to have a love of the absolutely absurd.

"She says she has Grindelwalds boot, sir. She says he left his boot in her front yard."