Two Aurors & A Bookworm

Five years after parting to pursue their choice careers, three best friends reunite. The two Aurors have a hole all over one of their most recent cases; the bookworm helps fill it with answers. On the surface, all seems smooth, but the War has changed them. There's trouble in the paradise they tried to create.

And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand and what dread feet?

Rough Wind, that moanest loud Grief too sad for song; Wild wind, when sullen cloud Knells all the night long; Sad storm, whose tears are vain, Bare woods, whose branches strain, Deep caves and dreary main, Wail, for the world's wrong!

Clay lies still, but blood’s a rover; Breath’s a ware that will not keep. Up, lad: when the journey’s over There’ll be time enough to sleep.

But the monstrous beast was not a dead weight; on the contrary, it enveloped and oppressed the man with its powerful, elastic muscles; it clasped itself to the chest of its mount with its two vast claws; and its fabulous head covered the man's brow, like one of those horrible helmets with which ancient warriors hoped to increase the terror of their enemy.