Regulus Sometimes Felt Like He Was Carrying The Weight Of The World On His Shoulders, And He Wasn't Sure

With a glass of wine in hand, Cassie had largely been lingering at the edges of the party. She was most comfortable with a lack of eyes on her, quite content to sit back and watch everything unfold. "Evening Emma. I dusted off my formal dress for the occasion, instead of my usual healers robes," Cassie said with a smile. "Busier than ever with everything that's going on. People call on me at all hours of the night...it keeps life exciting though, keeps my brain ticking. How are you? I still need to make it to one of your games and see you play for myself."

location: selwyn manor @battle-scvrs (cassie)

Emma was surprised to see Cassandra Borgin at the Selwyn's new years eve party, but as they had not spoken in a while she decided to go over and catch up. She was a good healer, one of the few Emma trusted. As a famous athlete she did not want to go in to see a healer and have things end up in the gossip magazines. "Cassie. You look well. How have you been?"

Regulus was trying to be better, and he supposed that meant reigning in his haughty personality sometimes and overriding the teaching that was innate in him that he was somehow better than others simply by virtue of his birth. “It’s a horrible time of year for shopping…maybe there’s a business opportunity in starting a owl-order service for people who want to avoid this horror.”

Greta tried not taking it personally and get upset, knowing that sometimes people simply had a bad day. So her smil was genuine when he apologised. "I'm sorry too. I should have waited my turn. Let's just forget about it, yeah? Water under the bridge."

“if you could only see the beast you made of me"

(cw: death, discussion of injury)

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Fenrir Ulrik Greyback NICKNAMES: Fen AGE: 34 GENDER: Cis Male PRONOUNS: He/Him

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Freya Greyback nee Macnair FATHER: Anders Greyback SIBLINGS: n/a

CHILDREN: Magnus Greyback

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Aaron Taylor-Johnson BUILD: Tall, stocky, particularly hairy. HAIR COLOR: Dark brown. EYE COLOR: Deep blue. DOMINANT HAND: Right. ANOMALIES: Scarring on his neck from the werewolf bite, scars on his back and his arms from claws. FASHION: Generally a bit thrown together, with clothes that are a bit patchy. NERVOUS TICS: Fenrir does not get nervous.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: A countryside cottage in the Cotswolds, backing onto acres of woodland BORN:  Greyback family home, Norway RAISED:  Greyback family home, Norway PETS: n/a.

CAREER: Chef EMPLOYER: The White Wyvern POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Unmarked Death Eater

DRUGS: Occasionally. SMOKES: Occasionally. ALCOHOL: Fenrir likes a deep red wine, or a smokey whiskey. DIET: Red meat heavy, usually on the rarer side.

LANGUAGES: English, Norwegian.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Home-schooled. WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 13 and one quarter inches, Elm wood, unicorn tail hair core, flexible. PATRONUS: Unable to cast. BOGGART: A version of himself that is not a werewolf, a weaker being.

BIO:

Fenrir Ulrik Greyback was born in Norway to Anders and Freya Greyback, where he resided for the early years of his life. As a child, he was curious and inquisitive and spent a lot of time outside. He loved exploring the natural world, and particularly enjoyed nights when the auroras were strong and his mother would get him bundled into a snowsuit and take him out for a walk to experience the lights. His parents were wizards, but this was a natural magic and he found it fascinating. It was one such evening where a full moon shone amongst the auroras, and neither Fenrir or Freya heard the noise of a werewolf approaching them before the beast was already upon them. It attacked Fenrir first, sinking large teeth into his neck with claws shredding at his skin. He doesn’t remember anything beyond that until he woke up in the hospital with his father by his side, looking older than he ever had before. His mother was gone, having died being attacked whilst trying to pull the werewolf away from Fenrir.

Family life was never quite the same again. With Freya gone, all joy seemed to be sapped from Anders. Fenrir’s life shrunk to being home-schooled by Anders who was terrified that his son’s condition would get out if he was sent to a proper school, and the whole family would be shunned. His father stopped talking to others about Fenrir’s existence immediately, and though Fenrir never realised, he had modified the healers memories so they believed he had died with Freya. Anders told Fenrir that his condition was something to be ashamed of, something to dread. Gradually, Fenrir began to resent his treatment. Each full moon bought a newer bitterness, and as he grew up, his wolfish side began to grow stronger. As a pup, he’d found enough room to roam around the cellar that he was locked in – but with each passing month, and each passing year, he longed to be free at the full moon.

When Fenrir was fifteen, the pair relocated to Scotland where Anders was due to take up a ministry job. On the first full moon since they moved, Fenrir broke free from his bonds and killed his father. When he awoke the following morning, he was several miles away from their home in a forest, and another man was standing over him. The other man was in a similar state to Fenrir, skin torn and grey, and he offered Fenrir a hand of friendship. It was the first time he’d met another werewolf in their human form, and life was then forever changed. For the next few years, Fenrir hardly touched his wand at all. Fenrir’s disappearance from public life in Norway had done him favours, and nobody knew Fenrir had entered Britain with his father. A quick trip home to gather his belongings and transfigure his father’s body into a stick with the guidance of the older wizard, and Fenrir finally found a pack of werewolves to call family. What the ministry made of Anders disappearance, Fenrir neither knew nor cared.

For the next few years, Fenrir hardly touched his wand at all. He grew into a fully fledged werewolf, unashamed of his condition. With each passing month his power grew, and so did his thirst for blood. No longer was his father holding him back, and instead he had a pack that encouraged him to embrace his true nature. At seventeen years old, Fenrir had risen in importance amongst their pack and he had started to gain a reputation for himself as a vicious, blood-thirsty beast. He got confident and cocky in his own abilities as a beast, until he murdered two muggle children and was brought before the Ministry of Magic for questioning the following morning.

Relying on his Norwegian upbringing, and the fact he had not attended Hogwarts as a child, Fenrir played dumb. He feigned ignorance of the English language and asked the ministry workers to repeat their questions many times until he understood. His wand had been left at home because of the full moon so there was no evidence that he was a magical being, and he pretended that he had did not know of the existence of wizards. One ministry member, Lyall Lupin, identified the tell-tale scars on Fenrir's neck and tried insisting that he be held until the full moon to see if he transformed, but the rest of the ministry committee did not see value in this to Fenrir's delight. As they were releasing Fenrir, Lyall had spat that Fenrir, and all werewolves, were soulless, evil and deserving of nothing but death. Fenrir hid his rage, but vowed revenge on the man for his prejudice.

Biding his time, Fenrir spent a few months quietly watching Lyall Lupin until he discovered where the other man lived. Then it was simply a matter of waiting for the right time until he attacked the young Remus Lupin, biting him deeply to ensure that he became infected with lycanthropy. Lyall arrived quickly enough, but still too late. The deed was done - Remus had been intentionally infected, and it gave Fenrir a taste of what was to come.

In the following years, Fenrir carefully started to integrate himself into wizarding society. Fenrir works as a chef at the White Wyvern, a position that suits him well. His employers don't question Fenrir dictating his working hours around the full moon, and working in a kitchen means that he doesn't have to be seen by anyone other than his co-workers. He has started actively practicing magic again, particularly the dark arts, though he still prefers to rely on his natural brawny strength in a fight than his magical ability.

As the tension continues to build for the war, Fenrir has found a place amongst the Death Eaters, where he is more than happy to do their dirty work as long as it gives him access to further potential victims. Voldemort's refusal to offer Fenrir the dark mark has rubbed Fenrir the wrong way, and he sees the way the other Death Eaters look at him as lesser yet he bides his time. He has continued to rise amongst his pack, eventually killing his former mentor and taking his place as the leader of the pack. Their mission is to infect as many humans as possible, with the dream of creating a werewolf army that could eventually challenge wizards for dominance in society.

Whilst bringing more wolves into the pack that Fenrir leads, he grew close to a half-blood werewolf named Nancy Edwards. The pair were together for several years, and as the result of a few drunken, reckless nights, they had a son together called Magnus. Fenrir and Nancy are no longer together romantically, but they are amicably raising Magnus together. Magnus is also a werewolf, having inherited the condition by virtue of both of his parents being true lycanthropes. Fenrir is proud of his now five year old son, and is raising him with virtues that he believes will make him a strong future leader of a pack.

Fenrir had headed out into some woodland in the Cotswolds following on from a shift at the White Wyvern. He would head home to collect his son soon, but Fenrir sometimes needed to walk off a long shift and he had several preferred haunts across the countryside outside of London where he could usually be found in the middle of the night. He loved the quietness of the woods at night, and with his heightened senses, he didn't even need to illuminate his path. As he wound his way deeper into the woodlands, Fenrir heard some non-natural noise ahead.

Wand now in hand, Fenrir continued to approach quietly. The figure came into sight, and Fen let out a small sigh. The youngest Nott sibling, Pandora, alone in the woods at night. "Pandora...is it safe for you to be out in the woods so late? Don't you know creatures prowl between these trees?" he called, wand still in hand just in case she shot a jinx his way. @pandoraxnott

Regulus couldn't help the way he flinched at James' easy joke. Sure, it was easy for James Potter - everything came easy to James fucking Potter. And like almost everything else in Regulus' life, Sirius was the first choice and Regulus was the unwanted extra. The little kid clutching his brother's arm, the teenager chasing after his brother's friends, the adult who was chasing everything that Sirius should have been and everything that he was not. "I know Sirius is your...I don't know, favourite person ever or whatever, but I'd appreciate not being lumped in with him any more. He made his choices, and I made mine....and you made yours," all traces of easy teasing gone from his tone, replaced with strained tension. "I'm Regulus, and I am ridiculous...and you've got no insight into my life any more. You wasted that chance."

James' innuendo made Regulus' brain short circuit for a moment, and his jaw fell agape for a moment before he collected himself. "Several years ago, maybe. But I think I'll pass on that now, I've moved on. I am, however, still interested in you grovelling. I am about to be the sole owner of all of England's jewelweed after all," he smirked. "Oh good, I'll make sure to frame it and put it over my mantlepiece."

"You're not Ridiculous, you're Regulus. Easy mix-up, I do it all the time." It was a joke akin to serious/Sirius, and something in that made James feel inexplicably guilty. It wasn't that he felt he was doing anything wrong right now, but the months when he did, years ago, threatened to resurface. Lying to his best friend had been the hardest thing in the world. In the end, he'd chosen to stop – that is, stop meeting Regulus on the astronomy tower every night, stop whatever it was that they had been doing. Sirius meant too much to him to go behind his back. And this wasn't something he could, or would, ever tell him. James made his decision, and it had been (it would always be) Sirius.

"Is that what you want? For me to grovel? Do you want me on my knees, Reg?" The double entendre wasn't intentional, but it floated in the air between them nevertheless. By the time he said it, it was too late to take back. He'd just pretend he didn't hear it. "I appreciate the concern, but I can do one more for you, don't worry."

The streets of Hogsmeade would always make Cassandra feel warm and nostalgic, no matter how many years passed since she had left Hogwarts. She'd spent a small fortune in Honeydukes before heading into the Three Broomsticks where she'd settled herself in a corner near the fire with a butterbeer. Her nose was buried into a book detailing the latest in runic magic when she spotted someone approaching her from the corner of her eye. "I'm not working at the moment. If you need healing, could you speak to someone else please?" she asked without looking up.

Reg put the stopper back in the bottle of dittany, watching as Caradoc's skin started to knit itself back together and the wound looked several days old rather than fresh. With the most immediate issue dealt with, Reg cast a few cleansing charms over his boyfriend before casting a general diagnostic charm. With his magic indicating Caradoc's other wounds, Regulus was about to start healing again when Caradoc's words made him freeze.

From his position on the floor, Reg let his wand drop into his lap. He reached to take Caradoc's trembling hands, his gaze resting intently on the other man's face. "This is war, Caradoc. It's life or death, you had to do what you did to stay alive. He would have killed you without thought, and he wouldn't have gone home and felt a single scrap of guilt. I'm glad it was him and not you. And I'm glad you came straight here."

Biting down on his lip for a moment, Regulus was silent for a moment. "Did anyone see Edward die? Anyone that might identify you, that might retaliate?" Regulus might have started feeding the Order information, but to protect Caradoc he would fall back on his arsenal of dark magic and he would feel no guilt about it.

Caradoc inhaled sharply at the feeling of the sting from the essence, watching Regulus work on handling the wound. He had other wounds, yes, but he wasn’t really thinking about any of it. The pain was there, but it was nothing compared to what was haunting his mind. Something had happened tonight that would change his life forever. What if the Ministry found out?

“I killed Edward Avery,” he said, knowing that Regulus would recognize the name as a Death Eater. “I-I didn’t mean to . . . He was attacking us, he was going to kill us, I didn’t . . . Reg, I . . .”

He trembled, partly from the pain, partly out of despair. He had never dreamt that this would happen, even though he had been trained for it. Caradoc thought Regulus might hate him. “And everything fell down around us and I couldn’t move and I didn’t know what to do, Reggie.”

"Hey, look at me," Reg's voice was gentle as he reached to put his hand on Caradoc's cheek, stroking his thumb across his cheekbones. "Being interrogated may put your life in danger if they find out about us, so we need to prevent that. I will fight with you. Don't feel guilt about that, please...this is my choice. I knew the risks when I realised we were on opposing sides and we carried on anyways, and I know the risks even more now that I'm defecting. I might be a pretty poor Death Eater, but I can still hold my own in a fight. I don't want you worrying about me, or feeling guilty. We'll do this together, okay?" Reg said, knowing that Caradoc would continue to feel guilt but hoping to offset it somehow. He just hoped that Caradoc still felt their relationship was worth the added risk.

Shifting up onto the couch, Reg cast another quick diagnostic spell to ensure he hadn't missed anything drastic before he set his wand down on the side. He tucked his feet underneath himself, leaning his head gingerly against Caradoc's shoulder. "It's so strange to me that your parents have chosen ignorance over all of this. That they would rather be blind to the war, than take precautions. Muggle behaviours are....odd."

Caradoc squeezed his eyes shut. If Regulus’ cover was blown because of him . . . He could already feel the waves of guilt hitting him. That was more painful than any injury inflicted on him could be. “Only if you must. Only if my life is in danger. If it’s anything else, you need to stay with your cover. I can handle being hurt by them, or being interrogated. What I cannot handle is you suffering in an effort to save me.”

He opened his eyes again, grasping his boyfriend’s hands. There were probably a couple more healing spells he needed, but they could wait. He just wanted to spend time with Regulus and relax. Caradoc patted the space next to him. “Please?” He said. “I don’t want to think about the mission anymore.” Caradoc sighed, leaning back against the cushions. “Merlin, if my parents knew . . .” He laughed out loud. “I cannot imagine what they’d think.”

His recent run-ins with both Sirius and Andromeda had really started to reset Regulus' brain, and he'd hardly slept over the last few weeks as he was kept up by the choices he'd made. The inner conflict was tearing him apart, and he needed to speak to someone that he could trust to keep his secret. There were very few people on Earth that Regulus felt he could trust with the enormity of this, but he just knew that Andromeda was someone he could talk to without fear of judgment. Even with her owled response confirming a date and time, Regulus had half convinced himself that his cousin was not going to come and he would be left to struggle through his feelings alone. "I wasn't sure. I wouldn't have blamed you," he offered with a small shrug. "I didn't think I would reach out either, but...here we are."

He gestured towards the couch for her to settle herself as he crossed through to his kitchen, tapping the kettle with his wand. Returning with two strong cups of tea, Regulus set them onto the coffee table before taking a seat. "I've been doing a lot of thinking recently. A lot of soul searching...it's been hurting my head, to be honest. And I guess I just...wanted to talk to someone that would understand."

Andromeda had been surprised when she had received the owl from Regulus. There had been hope that perhaps she had got through to him when she had seen him, softened some of that resolve that seemed such a Black trait. Or that perhaps even the sight of his niece would be enough to warm him. The invitation had filled her with hope, always the optimist. Still she had to consider whether or not it was a good idea, to go to his home wasn't necessarily the smartest idea. But there was no refusing him, so she'd sent him an owl with a time and date that worked for her, glad when he'd agreed. She couldn't deny upon arrival that she was nervous, she didn't know what to expect from this meeting. But regardless, she wanted to be there for Regulus, would always be there for her family. "Of course I came.." She offered him a small smile as she stepped inside, her eyes taking in their surroundings cautiously as she followed him into the living room. "Uh..tea would be lovely actually." She stood, unsure in the middle of the room, taking it all in before she turned to look at him once more. "I didn't think you would reach out.." She corrected herself. "I mean I hoped but..." She shrugged helplessly.

Fenrir had finally escaped the heat of the kitchen after final orders for food had been called and had headed to the bar to pour himself a drink to cool down. Festive crowds were relentless and he'd barely had a moment to himself all day, never mind time to eat or drink something. He'd been in the middle of downing a pint of water when Thorfinn entered and made his way over to Fenrir with purpose.

Fen took the parchment and read it, committing the contents to memory before he tapped his wand against it to set the parchment alight. "Twenty minutes for me to change and eat something," he said, reaching for a bottle of vodka. He poured two shot glasses, handing one across the bar to Thorfinn. "Cheers," he said, throwing the shot back before he disappeared into the back of the pub to prepare for the mission.

where: the white wyvern who: @battle-scvrs (Fenrir Greyback) when: 19th of december, 2024

It appeared that Thorfinn was not going to be able to enjoy the rest of the night, a parchment sent that he and Fenrir had a task to handle for the Dark Lord. He knew how much of a savage the other could be, and between the two, he was certain there would be a trial of blood in their wake.

The blonde sauntered into the shop, making his way up to the bar where he sat down with Fenrir on the other side. "How much longer do you have?" He held out the parchment for him to read discretely.