Where There's A Will...

OOC I'm not offing michael. he just doubts he can survive his next mission. its a bit out of his expertise.

There was something about night air that made it seem a bit colder and it didn't help that the snowfall was almost blindingly heavy. The fierce wind was bitter cold, and there wasn't one star in the sky. He saw no one as he walked the Hogsmeade streets alone. He entered the pub and wasn't a bit surprised to see the pub so devoid of activity that the servers were sitting at a table playing cards. When Michael came in, the bartender Tom, got up and went behind the bar.

"Your usual, Michael?" he asked cheerfully.

"No thank you, Tom," Michael said, laying a fistful of galleons on the counter. "I'd like the bottle please."

"Um..alright. Sure. Something on your mind, Michael?"

"No, I"m good. Thanks." He picked up the bottle and the glass off the bar and retreated to a dark corner. He sat down, poured the whiskey glass full of firewhiskey, and leaned back in the booth, not bothering to take off the dark wool topcoat. He drew the fedora down over his eyes and took a large drink of the firewhiskey, letting it burn all the way down. He refused to cave to fear. So instead, he decided to cave to the warmth of top shelf firewhiskey. The buzz would eventually be far more satisfying if he drank enough. He was very glad that wizards didn't drive muggle cars. He would be safer later, and so would Hogsmeade, if he werent' driving. It made him smile.

Jack was tired, quite tired. It had been a long week, between the Ministry and Weasleys' and all the work she was doing in between. She did have three little things to feed at home- the Jarvey, the Gytrash, and the demented ottoman that she was so fond of- and if she was not at their beck and call, she was at the mercy of the Order. Jack had been sure that graduating had meant FREEDOM.

She did enjoy going home to her own house, though, she could not deny. She hated having to front for people, and being able to go home and walk around half dressed and with her hair a total disaster was quite a relief. She was finding she only needed company on rare occassions. It was more fun visiting (as she had done with Amelia) or having run ins with people.

After she clocked out that night, she apparated to the Three Broomsticks. She just wanted to grab a pint before she went home. She needed some warmth in her life. She ordered her drink and plopped down, waiting for it to arrive. She glanced across the way and saw a solitary figure in the corner. She recognized this man, though.

She recieved her drink and slid the payment to the bartender, who fiddled with the taps before heading back to his card game. Jack made her way over to the figure and sat across from him. "Hey Michael," she said. "You alright? You're not causing the staff hell- it's not like you."

He looked up from his drink and pushed the fedora back into its proper place on his head. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"Jack? What on earth brings you out on a night like this?" he frowned. Its a shame you don't drink firewhiskey. Tom is improving in what he buys. Have a seat. You could have shared my bottle." He topped off his own glass. He decided to try to skirt the issue on the top of his mental list, futile as that was. Jack was smart. It was one of the reasons he loved her so. She had a brilliant mind. He was, rather, hoping that she had a dumb streak tonight, as unlikely as that was. That just was never ever gonna happen.

"Tom," Michael said, "GIve the lady her money back. Its on me." Tom brought Jack back her money.

"The man doesn't have a tab," Tom laughed. "He has a credit. Only customer I have that does it in reverse." Tom laid the money down and left.

"So...hows' that puppy?" Michael asked Jack. "I made Khaat take a pair of this last batch. Brian said the cats have it under control. If the puppies get to be too much, the cats just treat them like furniture and sit on them. 'Should have thought of that myself, actually. Leave it to a cat to be smarter than a catburglar." He paused for a moment, took a sip of the firewhiskey and then spoke.

"I'm actually glad you're here. I must go on a bit of business. Hence the termination of my professorship at Hogwarts, at least temporarily. It was my choice. I hope this task isn't going to take me long but if it turns out to be extended, I need someone to take care of things. Do you mind?" He passed to her a Gringotts key. It had never been out of his own hands before. Never. The vault number was almost worn off it from decades of being in his pocket. "I wouldn't tell anyone you had that, if I were you, though," he added quietly.

Jack shrugged at his question, ignoring his disbelief, though it did please her a little to catch him off guard. Jack prided herself on her ability to surprise everyone. "Needed a break. Can only bounce between home and work for so long without wanting a change of scenery." He commented on her drink. Oh, I do. Just needed a little mild warmth tonight." And she sometimes feared if she started drinking harder stuff again, she just wouldn't stop. She was taking a small dry period.

He had changed the subject, and for a moment, she let him run with that. She rolled her eyes but gave him a thankful look as her money was returned to her. She responded to the bartender's comment with, "Michael's a noncomformist." They shared a brief chuckle and she turned back to Michael, intent on resteering the conversation.

He was quicker though. She grinned, "Mongo is just fine. He and my Jarvey have quite the little rivalry, really, trying to compete for top dog. Pointless, really, as I'm top dog. It's funny, though. My Gytrash must have the mind of a cat; he's done that to both the pesky ferret and the pup when they were wrestling. Just sat on top of them while they whimpered. Hysterical."

She dropped her follow up question as he pressed on and her eyebrows scrunched up. She took the key and glanced down at it. At his words, she nodded and tightened her hand on the key. "Of course. But-" she paused. "What's going on, Michael? It's not like you to sit alone and quiety in a pub, nor is this hardly an everyday request. What's wrong?"

Her update on her pets made him smile. She had that affect on him. But then she spun the conversation back on him. He shook his head, outwitted.

"There are times when I love your IQ and times when its a pain in my butt," he managed a genuine laugh. Then he spoke with a lowered voice. "You're right. People don't generally hand off keys like that. Jack, I've never turned down a mission. Not if its for the right cause. And certainly if it has anything to do with something I'm good at. The farther it is away from my, well, talents, the more careful I need to become. I have to do a, um..., a mission, and its about as far fro my skills as I've been in a very long time. The only reason I'm doing this one is because its for the right reasons.

"It would seem that there is a very large, somewhat mentally unstable werewolf who is bent on trying to make a name for himself and a large piece of wealth if he can manage it. I don't know if he ever mentored under Fenrir, but he certainly shares Fenrir's philosophies. But this man is huge. In the times when he is human, he stands just short of 7 foot tall. When he transforms, he's bigger than that, obviously. He is, by hobby, a bodybuilder and he looks it. And that muscle does not exactly disappear when he transforms. Magical creatures, particularly ones this big and dangerous, are not my forte. But I do have to find him. Before he kill again just to try to make his point. And I would like to do it before he allies with Greyback in some fmanner in order to pose a serious threat." He leaned forward a bit. "When the hell did you ever know of me to be a hunter of oversized, overly agressive werewolves? I could rob them blind. But take them out? Its a bit out of my league. It is possible I might not return. That's what the key is for."

Jack stared at her friend, her eyes narrowed on him as though this really helped her to comprehend and analyze this situation. Michael really was her friend, and since he was one of those very, very, VERY rare few, it meant that Jack found herself incredibly loyal to him. Any sort of danger that might be on his horizon, worried Jack exstensively.

His little introduction made Jack uncomfortable; he was being rather vague with the situation, leading Jack to believe that whatever he had to say was something he knew Jack would object to. Jack, however, was not a meddlesome person. She did not tell people what to do. She just told them how she thought she could help, which was her way of keeping them safe.

It was not what she expected, but she knew that there might have been worse concepts. Michael was capable. Jack cleared her throat. "Need a partner for that venture? I'm the new Head of the Fluffies Department, and I specialized in werewolves." She gave him a bracing nod, trying to show him she could benefit him and knew she wanted to help him. She did not want to hear excuses about how young she was or whatever. She just wanted to protect her friend.

"Well, then that means you know more than I do," he said. He shifted to a bit of humor due to his own discomfort with the whole assignment. "I"ll pick his pockets and you take him out. I can function as a dandy distraction," he smiled. "Seriously, though. I can give you this much." He drew out two photos. "Never mind where I got them. This is him--minus the hair. He has shaved his head since then, and actually, he looked better with the hair. The other one was taken maybe a month ago by..a friend. He's nearly fully transformed here, but I have seen for myself that he has Fenrir's ability to control his transformations and can partly transform. It doesn't make him any less deadly. His legal first name is James. He uses a different last name depending on his mood and who he is either impressing or running from. And there surely is not much he is afraid of.

"Jack, you know I won't ask you to ever place yourself on the line for me." Hell, the truth was that he'd have done anything to protect her. But he really was over his head. By miles. "But we both know I'm out of my league. I would much prefer to survive this if possible. There are many more art museums and jewelry stores to 'patronize', after all. I would hate to miss some of them." He grinned. "If you can agree that you don't toss yourself under the proverbial bus for an old man, then, yes. I would appreciate the help."

Jack listened to Michael's short story and he pulled two phots out. She glanced up at him and pulled out her wand. "Mind?" she was sure he didn't so she tapped each photo, and two duplicates slid out. She pulled her copies towards her and conjured a quill as Michael spoke, fishing a journal out of her knapsack and opening it up. She tucked the two photos into the crease in the journal and scrawled out the information Michael gave her, before titling the age 'James?' and underlining the name twice.

He did not want to sound like he had volunteered her, she could tell with the way he careful phrased his warnings. Not like he needed to worry. Jack fully knew she had decided to go along with Michael, and no one would convince her otherwise. She wanted to be on this case- it would eventually get to her anyway, if he truly was a criminal. Might as well make sure her friend survived it.

"Do I seem like the kind to throw myself in front of a bus? Jump on top of one, maybe..." she grinned. "Of course I won't make you regret it, Michael. Besides, this seems like a job the new Head of the Department for Fluffies needs to take on." She grinned and took a drink from her Butterbeer. Yes, this was her way of informing him of her promotion.

"Congratulations," he smiled, genuinely pleased for her. "They're lucky to have you. Well deserved, Jack. Really. Well, then, it seems tor reason that you might soon be getting this anyway, whether you get involved now or later. If we get that dingbat out of the Minster's office. Lord, he's a nightmare. Anyway, I would presume you would like a bit more of how the hell I got this Van Helsing gig. Or as close to it as the muggles understand. It surely wouldnt take you more than a couple of minutes, if that, to figure it out for yourself. I'm protecting someone I love. Its that simple. It is not wise for them to go werewolf hunting on their own right now. And besides, at this point that would make it damned hard for anyone to distinguish between the hunter and the hunted. James wants them stopped as much as they want him to stop hunting them. If I can stop him before he finds them, then I'll be happy."

He realized then that he'd given her a great many fragmented clues. Not a lot of them, but Jack was too smart not to connect it. He hadn't intended to tell her that much. Perhaps it was the pressure. Michael was not a murderer. A thief, yes. But he never killed except in self defense. He had never found himself on a manhunt. Or was this a monster hunt? He wasnt' quite sure. But if Robert got back into office, this might likely be Jack's problem soon enough anyway. And if that were the case, he would certainly be first to step in to go with her.

Jack listened to all of what Michael said, making little notes in her journal, writing obscure phrases no one else would understand but her. This way, anything Michael did not want discovered never could. Not that she was careless with this journal. In it held a lot of information, information she found she would not be able to function properly without. Now as Head of the Fluff Wranglers anyway.

Ooh. That had a ring to it.

He was making it clear that this werewolf was incredibly dangerous, but Jack had to ask. "Is there a possibilty to cut out termination, and try for detainment and possible rehabilition?" Jack paused. "I've worked on a new space in the Ministry for these cases. Called in a few favors to test it out. A full-fledged dragon could not escape, let alone a werewolf. I am the only one with access. With my own personal project of werewolf relations, I find myself drawn to these cases." She gestured to the notebook. "And if all else fails, I'm betting I could find information to land him a cell in Azkaban."