Our story begins among a stretch of oak and elm trees west of Glasgow, a populous city in the south of Scotland. It was a quiet place that few knew about, and the muggles of Peter’s Burn to the west rarely ventured very far into the trees; it wasn’t a large place anyway but a road did lead into the trees, and some of them lined that road leading into the small forest. Hidden among the thickest part of the trees, away the road and prying eyes - both mundane and magical - was a small cabin that one might assume was little more than a hunting lodge. However, there was no hunter to be found inside its rustic walls - unless you considered an auror and his faithful, middle-aged Scottish deerhound, Molly. Molly wasn’t much of a huntress, though.<br/><br/>To the human inhabitant of the cabin, the forest home in which he resided was modest but appropriate and comfortable. He called it<span style="font-style: italic">Diomhair Anns Coille</span>, Scottish for “hidden by trees” - an apt name. Indeed, the from the road to the south end of the key-shaped expanse of forest, the whole of the land belong to a private owner; and in the centre of the spherical western half of the key-shaped expanse of trees rested the man’s cabin. The whole of the land that he owned was unplottable, and if a muggle were to attempt to find the cabin, they would become lost among the winding forest paths almost indefinitely - until such time as they chose to leave the forest, of course. One could not apparate into the cabin nor onto the land, nor could anyone disapparate out of the cabin or off of the land; the cabin was not connected to the Floo Network. The man liked his privacy, and that privacy had perhaps kept him safer and more secure than he could ever have been anywhere else.<br/><br/>Dougal Carmody was a pure-blooded wizard of Irish origin but Scottish upbringing, and Molly had been his closest companion and loyal friend for the last six years. For the longest time, he hadn’t wanted to have any pets at all; oh, he’d kept various birds and other such creatures as a sort of alarm, but he’d never kept a true “pet” until some muggle children peddling puppies in Glasgow had urged him to take one. The puppies had apparently been abandoned by their owner and were only a couple of weeks old, and they would be taken and destroyed if they were not adopted. As closed as his heart often was, Dougal was not completely heartless; he hated to see an animal suffer because of human callousness. And so he had taken in the runt of the litter, a beautiful dog he named Molly; it was one of the best decision he’d ever made. He had never realized how lonely he was following the death of his wife until Molly began to pester him on a regular basis. He quickly became glad she did.<br/><br/>Her wandering nose was doing precisely that at this early hour of the morning, before dawn had dared to break over the distant Scottish horizon. He groaned at the touch but his hand instinctively moved to cover her nose. As he slowly stirred, his hand drifted to the top of her head and rested there comfortingly. It took him nigh twenty minutes to awaken enough to draw in a deep breath, turn over, and blink rapidly in greeting. He offered the deerhound a loving smile, caressed her skull for a few moments, and then slowly rose into a seated position. He groaned a little and muttered something that only Molly could have understood, and she laid her head upon his bare knee.<br/><br/><span style="color: green">“Hmhm,”</span>he chuckled quietly, smiling down at her as he scratched behind one of her ears.<span style="color: green">“Good morning, lovely.”</span><br/><br/>He stretched, popped, ached, and even cracked a little as he stood and walked over to the toilet to take a piss. He was rolling his neck on his way back from that when someone called out to him. He nearly shed his skin right there, stumbling to the ground and reaching fruitlessly for his wand. He soon found it, however, and lit the fireplace with a wave - much to the chagrin of the lad that suddenly darted out of it.<br/><br/><span style="color: green">“What manner o’ madness are you?!”</span>he cried out in mingled shock and fury, his thick Scottish accent barely understandable in his still-groggy state.<span style="color: green">“Unholy mother of hell, what business do ye have bargin’ into m’home, you---?!”</span><br/><br/>The rest was indecipherable swearing and a Confundus Charm hurled at the intruder. It was waved away with a powerful Shield Charm and light flooded the small, dark cabin. Revealed was a temporarily blinded man in his late sixties, well-built and in excellent health despite his age and the manner in which his head still swam. His gray locks were wild in the lack of rhyme or reason with which they spread in every direction, and the tattoos upon his nude form lent credence to the tough exterior that he was said to be possessed of.<br/><br/>Revealed also was a young man of somewhat messy brown hair and piercing brown eyes, his handsome face unbespectacled and his nose unbroken; his somewhat angular jaw was braced for another defensive spell’s quick utterance, yet his eyes were distinctly pointed at the floor and trying to look anywhere but at the elder wizard. The lad stumbled over his words as Dougal had stumbled to the ground but moments before, desperately trying to remind his superior that he was here for a wake-up call at Dougal’s behest. After a few tense moments and once his vision had cleared somewhat, Dougal grumbled something incoherent and slowly got to his feet. As he did so, he growled at the boy to put out that infernal light.<br/><br/><span style="color: green">“How in the name o’ the devil ‘erself did you get ‘ere, anyway? I told ye to send a patronus, you damned bloody fool!”</span>he accosted the young wizard.<br/><br/><span style="color: gray">“Oh…well, I specialize in tracking dark wizards, and…”</span><br/><br/>The lad hesitated but decided that he was already on the man’s bad side; he might as well spill the rest.<br/><br/><span style="color: gray">“Well…I just sort of…tracked you…it wasn’t easy, believe me.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: green">“I know it wasn’t bloody easy,”</span>he replied as he scoured himself.<span style="color: green">“If it was bloody easy, any fucking idiot could have found me, and then I’d have to move again. You think I want any fucking idiot to find me?”</span><br/><br/>The lad politely asked him to tone down the language, to which he responded with more profanity. He wasn’t in a pleasant mood - oh, not at<span style="font-style: italic">all</span>. As such, he silently declared his ignorance of the lad’s protest. He dug around in his wardrobe for the clothes he’d intended to wear - brown trousers, an off-white button-down, and his usual brown leather jacket - as Molly sniffed about at the lad. The latter petted the dog as he light the fireplace, trying to ward off the dew-chill and get some light into the cabin without blinding his charge again.<br/><br/>It wasn’t long before the elder wizard was ready to go. He doused the fire quickly and cast a spell that scattered it within the hearth so as to make it look as though it hadn’t been lit for a long time; he banished the smell of the fire and gave the cabin as a whole a dusty look and a musty smell. Then he packed all of his luggage into a surprisingly small bag - what looked to be a muggle’s doctoring bag, black leather shining as sunlight began slowly to peek through the thick curtains. There were few words exchanged before the two left, Dougal locking the door up behind him and leading both Molly and<span style="font-style: italic">his</span>charge out of the woods. Once they were beyond the trees upon his property and among the trees of the property to the south of his, he put his wand away and gently took molly by the scruff of her neck. The trio disapparated to King’s Cross Station in London.<br/><br/>The terminal was particularly busy this morning, a fact that only made the elder wizard grumble as he petted Molly in apology for the quick magical trip.  The dog walked along beside the pair of wizards as they made their way toward the cancelled Platform 12, the younger wizard leading the way. Dougal couldn’t recall the lad’s name, although neither did he particularly care to ask. He had been “recruited” by the lad on behalf of Albus Dumbledore University, a wizarding college named after one of the greatest wizards of the last several hundred years and a man in whom Dougal placed his very deep respect - one of the few he could say that about.<br/><br/>The journey was no different than passing through the barrier at Platform 9 ¾, although the train looked much newer and more efficient. He mumbled about magic mimicking technology and wishing he was taking the Hogwarts train again.<br/><br/><span style="color: green">“All I can say is that there’d better be some fucking hash when I arrive,”</span>he grumbled a bit more loudly than intended, drawing a hasty look and hushing from the lad.<span style="color: green">“I’ll talk how I please, just as I dress!”</span><br/><br/>He wore no robe, although he did have some robes among his luggage - but as his luggage was all stored in wizard space within his hand-carried bag, he wasn’t about to dig one out for the sake of a few well-to-do wizards and witches who might think less of him for not wearing one. In truth, he looked more to play the part of a country doctor than he did that of a Professor of Curses, Hexes, and Jinxes. Yet indeed, he had learned many things when the Ministry had trained him; he had also been subjected to many things. He had endured the Cruciatus and Imperius Curses, building up a strong resistance to both; he could throw off the latter entirely, given a few moments in which to do so. He had been trained as an Animagus and taught to cast Legilimency as well as utilize Occlumency. He had been taught quite a lot of dark magic and how to defend against it - things that were buried deep in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library as well as things that rarely made it out of the Department of Mysteries, and much that was in between. Most importantly, he had been given a licence to kill, maim, or do whatever else it took to accomplish his missions.<br/><br/>But all of that was top secret and a long time ago beside. That had been his old life, and the death of his wife had changed everything for him. He chose now not to dwell upon these memories, however, for nothing good would come up drudging up the ghosts of the past.<br/><br/><span style="color: green">“Besides,”</span>he muttered,<span style="color: green">“the university will probably have ghosts enough on its own.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: gray">”Hm?”</span>the lad inquired, having not quite heard him.<span style="color: gray">”What was that, sir?”</span><br/><br/>Dougal glared at the boy. He shouldn’t have to explain his private thoughts to someone he barely knew and couldn’t care less to.<br/><br/><span style="color: green">“Never you mind!”</span>he responded fiercely.<br/><br/>The lad left him alone as they boarded the train.