The pounding of dragon-skin boots on Yorkstone echoes in the still air. A scarlet cape sways in tandem behind curvaceous hips whose motions convey an undeniably feminine confidence.

The woman approaches the tall wooden doors of the Great Hall and effortlessly opens them with a single kick.

Valarie’s lips part in a toothy grin and her pupils dilate when they land upon the sea of seated students once mindlessly enjoying their breakfasts and now focused solely on her.

Just how she likes it.

One of the grey cat ears hidden underneath her peaked cap unconsciously twitches from the excitement of potentially sniffing out the unregistered werewolf among them: the mission from Headmaster Black that she pounced at the chance to oversee.

“Hello,” she greets them all with a voice that’s simultaneously an authoritative growl and a soothing purr.

“Auror Valarie at your service. Now, let’s keep this simple.”

Her eyes narrow into a steely gaze that flickers with barely concealed bloodlust.

“If you’re an unregistered werewolf, step forward, get on your knees, and beg for mercy like the filthy mutt you are.”