How in the world could Hermione introduce herself and her research to Fenrir's wife? Ursula was difficult enough, and that was with a friendly letter of recommendation helping her. Hermione was deep in battle with a third attempt at a letter when the tapping noise started, but she didn't notice it until a voice cracked out, "Hello!"

She jumped and whipped around, but her doorway was empty. The tapping came again, and she turned to the window. A huge raven tapped on the glass three more times, then looked her dead in the eye, gave an exasperated sigh, and said "Rude!" It held out its leg to show a piece of parchment tied around it.

"I am so sorry!" Hermione opened the window, and it flapped onto her desk with another exasperated sigh and "Rude!" Did it know what it was saying, or was it just imitating someone? It held out its leg again, and she took off the parchment. "Thank you," she said, just in case.

"Treat," the raven said.

"Oh, I don't think I have any treats."

"Treat!" The raven spread its wings, blocking her desk. Ravens were much larger than she had realized before that moment.

"OK, let me see if Meg has some owl treats!" Hermione went to the door, but as she stepped into the hall, paper rustled behind her. She turned just as the raven opened her lunch bag and pulled out a sandwich. "Hey!" The raven flew out the window with the sandwich in its beak before she could rush back to it, and she swore it laughed as it flew off.

With an exasperated sigh of her own, she closed the window and unrolled the parchment she'd taken from it.

Got Roma's page. Meet me at this pub at 7 PM tonight. It's Muggle, so dress appropriately. I'll cover drinks if you don't have Muggle money. -C.C.

P.S. If Muninn tries to shake you down for treats, tell her "Go home. Chris has them."

That would have been nice to know two minutes ago, Hermione thought. Below Chris's message was a hand-drawn map with an address beside it.

Hermione had never followed wizard fashions, so it wasn't hard to pull together a Muggle outfit. She was afraid the pub would be in a sketchy area, but it was actually in a pleasant little town. She walked in, and the room went quiet that way that happens when a tourist walks into a pub full of regulars. Trying to ignore it, she looked around, but she couldn't summon an image of Chris Corbin to recognize. Maybe process of elimination. There were a few middle-aged couples at the tables, and a knot of older gentlemen at the bar.

"Can I help you, Miss?" the bartender asked.

"I was looking for—"

"Hermione!" Chris called, raising his hand. She hadn't noticed him before, but he was sitting at a table near the back with one of his legs up on a chair, drawing in a sketchbook.

"For him," she said, walking over to him. The older gentlemen chuckled and jostled each other, stealing looks at her and Chris.

"Hey, ya made it," he said, closing the sketchbook and sitting up properly. "First test passed. And your clothes are even from the right century, so bonus points."

"Thanks, I think." She glanced around, then leaned towards him and lowered her voice. "Will we be able to talk in here? About… you know."

"Oh, yeah, it's fine. I've got a Charm going. Whatever we say, the Muggles'll think we're raving football fans. How do you feel about Manchester United?"

"Well, I come from a family of Liverpool fans, so I kind of hate them."

With a laugh, Chris said, "Brilliant. This'll be fun. You want a drink? They got a perry here my sisters love. Muggle stuff; it won't even get you tipsy."

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

Chris sighed and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "OK, you're not getting the hint. Roma warned me you were going to ask about some Latromancy. If that's true, I want to be able to tell my boss we weren't 100% sober for this conversation, should it come up. Now, if you don't trust me, that's cool. I'll give you a fiver and you can buy your own. And honestly, I don't care if all you drink is a sip. But to cover my own tail, if you don't have something, we're not talking Latromancy."

"The perry'll be fine."

"Good choice." He went to the bar and ordered a perry and a beer for himself. While he was waiting, the nearest of the older gentlemen tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, Chris, new girlfriend?" he asked with a gesture to Hermione.

"I don't know, man." He grinned and pointed his thumb back at her. "She's a Liverpool fan."

The older men burst into laughter, and the closest one slapped him on the back. "My God, you Greybacks and your footy. You're insane."

"They recognize you," Hermione said when he brought the drinks back.

"Yeah, they knew me before I cast the Anonymity Charm, so it doesn't work on them. I spent a lot of time in Muggle places growing up. They don't notice the, well…" He pointed to his shaded hair and his fangs, then held up his hand and wiggled his long ring finger. He took a drink of his beer, and Hermione sipped the perry.

"It is very good," she said. "Are you allowed to do Latromancy outside of work? I don't want to get you into any trouble."

"Depends what you're asking for. I keep it legal these days, but inside of that, I can do whatever I want off the clock. I just try to be transparent with my boss about it. The job's been good to me, and I'd like to keep it."

"I want to get something out of the Thief's Pouch of someone who passed away."

"All right. That's a legal salvage operation; I can do that. Normal fee is half of whatever's inside, counted by value, and I get to choose my half. Cool?"

"I'm only after one thing, so as long as I can have it, I'm cool."

"OK. Whose pouch?"

"Fenrir Greyback's."

Chris blinked at her a few times, then burst into laughter so loud that several other patrons looked over. "OK, you got me good. You really had me going there."

"It's not a joke."

"No, it is, whether you realize it or not. Fenrir was one of maybe three people who actually gave a shit about me when I was growing up. If I could pull his pouch, don't you think I would have already?"

"What stopped you?"

"You gotta have something that belonged to the person, something they used enough to imprint on. We don't have anything; it was all nabbed when he was arrested. And if you get the Hunters involved, I'm going to forget the damn spell."

"How many times has Marolt asked you to do it?" Hermione asked.

"He doesn't exactly 'ask', but it's been often enough that next time, I'm going to punch his face in and take the write-up."

Something that belonged to the person, that they used enough to imprint on. "What if I got something from his childhood, like a toy?" Maybe Ursula could find something.

Chris shook his head. "He didn't have a Thief's Pouch back then. It won't recognize him from that."

"There's really nothing? Nothing he gave away before he was arrested?"

"Gifts belong to the people who get them."

Something after Greyback got a Thief's Pouch, that he didn't give away… "What about a book?"

"Maybe. Depends on the book."

Hermione dug into her purse and pulled out the copy of Treasure Island she had found in Greyback's cell at Azkaban. "What about this book?" she asked, handing it to him.

His forehead wrinkled as he saw the title. He opened it and thumbed through, reading the marginalia. "Where the hell did you get this?"

"It was in Greyback's cell at Azkaban."

Chris burst into laughter again. "Are you shitting me? You nicked this from Azkaban?!"

"They said I could take it." Chris looked at her over the bridge of his nose. "I don't think they knew what was in it."

Chris shook his head. "See, this is why I'm a fan. You steal from Gringotts, now you steal from fucking Azkaban. And it's all homegrown skills, too. Shit. If you had my training, you'd be dangerous. You ever decide to turn to a life of crime for real, drop me an owl. I want in."

"So will it work?"

"Hell yeah it'll work!" He closed the book and looked at the cover again, but then his face fell, seriousness falling over it like a veil. He put the book on the table and pushed it back to her. "No, this is a terrible idea. You better put that back in your bag."

"What do you mean, it's a terrible idea? You just said it would work!"

"Look, pulling a Pouch doesn't sound like much, but the reason hardly anyone can do it is because it's fucking dangerous. And it's not just dangerous for me. Hell, I do stupid shit all the time. The spell takes two people. You'll have to hold the Pouch open while I pull stuff out, and you're going to feel that imprint while you do. Now I don't know what that'll feel like, but I do know that Fenrir was into some nasty shit at the end. He was killing people. And they weren't finding much of the bodies, if you know what I mean." He gestured to her scars, and she nodded. "You wanna take that guy's Pouch and drop in this thing he used in Azkaban? That is some seriously bad mojo. Whatever you're after, you sure you want it that bad?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think I do."

"Good call. Put that back in your bag before I nick it."

Hermione nodded and slipped the book back into her bag. "What do you think he had in there?"

"Stuff from his victims, probably."

"What do you mean, like trophies?"

"Nah, nothing like that. Probably stuff like jewelry, things that were too distinctive to sell yet. Stuff he had to wait until it cooled down a little, or You-Know-Who took over entirely and he could do what he wanted."

"Things that would identify his victims?" Chris nodded. "Is that why the Hunters want in there?"

"Nah. If that was it, I would have done it already, even for them. I'm not a complete asshole. The Hunters are looking for stuff that incriminates someone living. That's why I'll only do it if I can take that stuff as part of my half."

So many people just disappeared during the war. 'Missing Person' posters still hung all over Diagon Alley, yellowing and falling to tatters in the wind. Even Hermione needed two hands to list the people she knew who had disappeared without a body ever found. "I think we need to do this," she said softly.

"Nah, I don't think we do."

"Yes, we do. There's so many families who lost people and don't know what happened to them. If we can find out, if we can give them some closure, I think we should do it. I think we need to."

"You sure you can handle this?"

Hermione considered, then nodded.

"All right. I'm in. We'll head to my place and sign the contract." He drained his beer and pointed to Hermione's perry. "I'd drink the rest of that if I were you."