Angus was running again. Why were things things always in the wee hours of the morning, and why was it always raining? It had started out well enough. Simple surveillance, nothing more. Well, until he was made. Then it all went sideways. It had started with a bit of a street brawl and when his wand was broken, he'd decided runnin was a better option.
He learned something about werewolves. Even if the full moon became obscured with storm clouds, it didn't change the fact that once they were turned, they were turned. Didn't seem to slow them down a bit. Buggar. His grandfather would surely expect better of him for such a mistake. He had a choice--run or be eaten. He didn't favor the latter. His boots seemed to splash through puddles that were forming in the brick pavement of the alleyways, and he decided that perhaps Diagon Alley might have enough traffic left in it that it might ward off the two small-ish werewolves that were on his trail.
He decided to lose them, and he dashed through the narrow alley that ran behind the Leaky. The next thing he knew, he felt a sharp pain across his right shin and heard a distinctive cracking sound. He felt himself start to fall, and knew enough to tuck into a roll to keep from hitting his head. When he came up, he saw both of the werewolves were almost right on him. One of them had managed to stop him by tripping him. Elementary, but amazingly effective.He fired a fireball with wandless magic, catching one of the on fire. Fur burned fairly well, he found. The two werewolves ran screeching from the alley.
Relieved, he leaned back against the brick wall, and took a moment to catch his breath. He glanced down at the black jeans he wore. They were torn and bloody. Fabulous. And it hurt like the devil. He didnt see himself walking on it any time soon. He reached into his pocket for the portkey to get home and found it wasnt there. Great. Just great. No wand, no portkey, pouring down rain, ...batting 1000.
He heard the clock chiming in the distance. It was time for the Leaky to close for the night. If he was lucky, someone would leave by the back kitchen door and, without scaring them, he'd be able to get their attention.