Timothée Chalamet For Rolling Stone Magazine, December 2024

Bellatrix was more infuriating than his parents, at this point. Once he'd taken the mark and shown some initial devotion to the cause, his parents had backed off content in the knowledge that at least one son was doing the right thing. Without him being marked, Regulus would never have been allowed to move out of the family home, or take his job at the ministry which allowed him more freedom than he'd ever had. But Bella's care manifested in intense devotion, and he worried that he would never be able to get her to give up on this desire for him to be better than he was. All Regulus wanted to do was live his life in peace, and study the intricacies of magic at the Department of Mysteries. It would be a quiet life, but it was his - and that diverted from his family's view.

He was just thankful that they hadn't started pressuring him to take a wife and to continue the line.

Regulus knew his cruciatus would disappoint his cousin immeasurably. He had seen her wielding it on missions, and though he hated the curse, he had to admit that watching Bellatrix cast it was almost like an art form. Watching Bella lift her wand after his first poor attempt had panicked him, fearing that the curse was heading his way, and it was that panic along with his earlier fury that led to a slightly stronger second attempt though it was still poor.

His chest was heaving with the effort of casting even such a weak curse, sweat beading at his brow. "But I..." he trailed off, stopping himself. He had been about to say that he didn't love it, which was potentially the worst thing he could say in the presence of his cousin beyond confessing to his muggle-born lover. The rest of his thought was cut off as he stared down the end of his cousin's wand, pupils dilating in fear. He knew that he'd been poor, but he hadn't anticipated Bella torturing him for it. As red flashed, Regulus flinched away, shrinking into himself to try and protect himself from the inevitable pain. He could hear Bella laughing, and the sound sickened him. After a moment, he realised her curse had been directed elsewhere - and when he looked back at his cousin, there was something new in his gaze. The faintest hint of disgust, hidden behind the layers of fear.

"I don't need you to tell me it was poor, Bella. I know it," Regulus sneered, pushing away from the table as he stood. Thinking back on Rabastan's teaching Regulus dug into his confused emotions as he stared at his dishevelled cousin, and with his voice dripping with disgust he held his wand steady and cast "imperio." Tilting his head slightly, he went for the same command he had given Rabastan. It would upset Bella as much as it had upset Rabastan. "Your wand. Give me your wand."

Regulus was testing Bellatrix's patience. Truly, this was more demanding than any mission gifted to her by the Dark Lord. She could not torture the boy, and neither did she want to. She could barely manipulate him, since familial intimacy meant he knew her well. Force had not benefited her with Regulus and she felt that she was losing ground. It was a situation most perturbing and undeniably irksome. Her rage still lingered as he spoke reassuringly, her palms still splayed against the couch as though she were trying to ground herself. Yet even then, she managed to locate an ounce of pride, acknowledging that the boy did not give up easily. Regulus was proving to be a challenging project. He did want to learn and he respected the need to study magic further. She would give him that much. It was admirable despite his misplaced tutelage. Had she known that he had mastered Occulmency, she would have thought of him more highly. But she knew nothing of it.

"Very well." Arguing was going nowhere. She was growing tired and bored and frustrated. She wanted to move on. "As I promised, I will make no further demands after you show me your curses."

They were one curse down and she was looking forward to seeing his Cruciatus. By far her favourite of the Unforgiveables, Bellatrix wielded it with devastating adoration. Her skill with it was calamitous. It fed her sadism and brought her a high like nothing else. Nothing could compare - not sex, not drink, not even death itself. So when Regulus's spell danced from her dress without so much as even a feeble tickle, she sighed with dramatic disappointment and raised her wand to show him how it should be done. Fortunately for him, she hadn't expected his second attempt. It stunned her, crushing her back against the chair with something akin to an electric shock. Her shriek pierced the silence like a knife cutting silk, then she laughed wildly, gasping for air and sliding halfway down her chair as the spell receded.

There was pain. It did hurt. But not as it should. Regulus's spell lacked substance and finesse. Since her own wand had fallen to the ground, she reached down to retrieve it, her normally steadfast fingers trembling in the aftermath and her hair now askew at a tremendously jaunty angle.

"You didn't mean it, cousin. You need to want it. You need to love it." Wand now in hand, she directed it mercilessly between Regulus's eyes, wanting to see what emotions would reveal themselves in that flicker of an instant. Her breath was still ragged, her position still lopsided against the chair. Insane, some called her. But that was a lie told by fools and enemies. There was no madness within Bellatrix Lestrange. There was only pure, unadulterated awareness. She knew exactly what she was doing and she knew that she adored it. With a slashing motion, she cast the curse at a portrait, the flashing red causing the illusion of blood as the picture's occupants screamed in horror. Their disarray clashed horribly with Bella's laughter, her mirth ringing true and bold with shamelessness. Even in her mildly weakened state, that curse would have been crippling. She would spare Regulus from a direct hit.

Slowly, she pushed back up into her seat and steadied herself. She wouldn't bother giving him an assessment. He knew it had been poor, but she supposed he'd tried his best. "Now the Imperius. You weakened me-" She paused, shrugged dismissively and wryly simpered, "well, sort of. But it should help you nonetheless. Let's see if I can resist."

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.

Deciding that by now neither of them was going to leave in a fury, Regulus finally threw himself back down into the chair he'd occupied before James' entrance. Reaching for the bottle again, Regulus took one last swig before he banished the bottle. With narrowed eyes, Reg pointed his wand at James' head before letting harmless sparks flash from the end. "If I obliviated you, Sirius would kill me. I don't need to give another relative a reason to murder me," he muttered, falling back on his brother as if that was the only reason why he didn't want to physically harm James Potter - even after everything. With curious gaze, Regulus saw the way that his words seemed to land and he cursed his big mouth for speaking before he'd thought it through. Still, it hurt. The situation was a nightmare, and no amount of Regulus pulling his punches would change that. "I reckon its my Uncle Alphard. He would think this was bloody funny," Regulus chose not to acknowledge James saying he deserved it. Maybe he did...but hadn't he suffered enough already?

Regulus crossed his arms to hide the shaking of his hands, shrinking back into the chair further. "You know who I'm disappointing James. You...you took my brother in when he left us, and it was me that was left to pick up the pieces, me that was left with the violent fall out, me that had to shoulder the responsibilities - the last male heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black. I think it will be worse this time, when it all comes out. Sirius and Andromeda was bad enough, shameful even, but for them to lose me when they had me marked and fighting for their side? It's unforgivable. They're my family, and I love them. I still love them, I will love every single one of them until the day that this war kills me. This choice will kill me, it's just a matter of...I don't know, trying to give your Order an edge before it does. I don't hold any false pretences about a life after the war is over...I'm not even sure I'll make it to the end of the war."

Taking a deep breath as James spoke, Regulus couldn't hold his gaze as he spoke of courage and bravery. Reg wasn't sure he had a single ounce of bravery in his body, not really. He was tired of his whole life feeling like a struggle. "I'm tired, James. I'm tired of feeling like I'm never enough, that I'm not good enough for anything, that I don't live up to expectations. This war has broken me in half, and I'm not sure there's much left to piece back together. But I will do my best, for as long as I can. And if by some miracle I'm still alive when the war ends...well, I'll figure out how to live, I suppose," he breathed. "I'll let you. It's easier, I suppose, having someone who knows how I can be. Less awkward than someone new trying to figure me out."

James knew instinctively what he meant. He understood that this was his way of having some sort of control in a situation that was spinning out of it right in front of them, and he nodded. Nobody did like wet socks. Just like nobody wanted to be protected by their... whatever they had been to each other. "I'm not normally a gambling man, but with you, I'll take my chances. Fire away," he shrugged indifferently. In the current climate, it was hard to be sure of much, but one thing James Potter did feel sure of was that Regulus Black wouldn't hurt him. Not like that, anyway. Words were something else entirely, and he'd felt all of them acutely as they landed in his chest, piercing new holes where previous ones had been starting to heal. "He's outdone himself," he agreed. "I s'pose someone's up there's laughing down at us. Thinks this is all some big joke. I think I deserve it, really, after all the pranks I've pulled. You probably deserve it, too, Reg. No offence."

Compassion filled him as he listened to Regulus speak, and James visibly softened. "I don't think I'm the hero here, unfortunately. I was asked to do this." This must be so difficult for him. It was almost like looking in Sirius' eyes when they were sixteen, though he didn't dare say this aloud. "Who could you possibly be disappointing,” James frowned, voice gentle, “by doing the right thing?" It was a rhetorical question; they both knew the answer. At long last, he sat down on one of the chairs with a sigh. "I don't want to be let out of it. Unless you want me gone, which I would understand. I can speak to Edgar to say I can't do it." His gaze, which had been fixated on his hands on the table in front of him, now went to meet Regulus'. "When I was asked to protect you – well, the double agent – I thought… Damn. Whoever it is must be so brave. It'd be an honour to protect someone like that. You may have ended up as far as you did because that was what was expected of you, but this choice that you've made... your conscience winning, despite everything you've been told your whole life, takes so much courage. I still stand by what I said. It'd be an honour, and I'll do it gladly, if you'll let me." He felt as if there was no air left in his lungs, as if it’d been punched out of him.

Knowing that Pandora got truly stuck into her work, Fenrir wondered if there was some benefit to teaching her some additional warding magic. He was sure that her older brother would've taught her well, if her parents hadn't, but the fact he had stumbled across her entirely unprotected...well. Pandora wouldn't turn her nose up at his dirty magic the way that the other pure-bloods did, who would brush off his offer due to his blood and his lack of magical education - as if attending Hogwarts made some of them any better than he.

"Oh darling, I know you like wild beasts," Fenrir murmured lowly, his gaze lazily resting on the woman. "Is that a command, or a request? And will this be business, or pleasure?" he said, attention turning to the object she'd been working on. Fen let Dora pull him closer, noting the look in her eyes that told him she was still focused on magic. "Is there anything I can do to help finish it off?"

Amber hues pulled away from the clock placed on the stone, that looked more like a table, to the direction of Fenrir who was closing the distance between them. That is when she realised that she had not set up her wards to warn her of others close by. She had been too eager to further replicate what happened earlier. That was a mishap on her side.

"Perhaps I like wild." The corners of her mouth turn into a coy smirk. The lack of fear that consumed Pandora would concern others, but for herself, she embraced it to her advantage. "Then you will be mine for the night." She was eager to see if she could get the same reaction she did with Bellatrix with the spells she had manipulated, already twisting the threads to strengthen the new spell. Absentmindedly the witch bridges the gap and reaches for his hand to pull him over to the object. "I wish you could see what I do. It was so close to working earlier. I need this to work. "

"There's a lot of damage in both of those relationships. I did see Andromeda recently, I spoke to her about some of the mess going on in my brain...it was helpful," he said, a hint of a smile on his lips which disappeared as he thought about his brother. "Sirius is a...well, I think it's going to be much more difficult to fix whatever's there. He's strong-willed, we both are. But I want to try, and that has to count for something, right?" Regulus rambled, still unsure exactly how to go about speaking to Sirius about all of this. After all, Sirius had cut all contact with him since leaving home. "My dear, do you want me to come and cast silencing charms? I might be terrible at offensive magic, but warding homes and making them private is something I've forced myself to learn expertly," Reg offered, certain that if he was to publicly leave the Death Eaters then his ability to protect any dwellings he was in would become more important than simply protecting his privacy.

As he continued to keep his arms around Caradoc, Reg felt him relaxing more with each passing minute. Dropping another kiss against the crown of his head, Reg considered the other man's words carefully. "While you're still somewhat unknown, that may be a good idea. If our relationship gets out, a forged ID won't help you...not against my cousin anyway," Reg scrunched his nose up in distaste, thinking about how terrible Bellatrix's wrath would be. "But it's a good idea for now anyways. Things are getting worse, but I'm hoping that with some of the information I'll pass on to Edgar that the tide will start to shift, even slightly."

“It would be great if you could talk to Andromeda and Sirius again,” Caradoc said with a smile. He didn’t know Andromeda very well, but he admired her bravery for standing up to her family and following her heart to be with Ted Tonks. As for Sirius, they weren’t very close, but they were in the Order of the Phoenix together. “I might make it a habit to spend more time here, then. My upstairs neighbors are awfully noisy.” He chuckled, even though it was true.

He felt much more relaxed - protected - now that they had had this conversation. Every single day, Caradoc was on edge, worrying that he was going to be attacked or someone he cared about was going to be put in danger. “You know,” he began. “I was thinking of . . . Getting a forged I.D. Something that says I’m a half-blood, at least. I’ve heard that a couple other muggle-borns are doing it. It hadn’t crossed my mind before but . . . The other day I got stopped by a some guy in Diagon Ally. Don’t think he was a Death Eater, but he was definitely aligned with their ‘cause’. He knew me somehow, and he pushed me around a bit. When I pulled my wand out, he backed off, but . . .” He shrugged. “Things just seem to be getting worse and worse.”

"no one man should have all that power"

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Kingsley Nathaniel Shacklebolt NICKNAMES: Kings AGE: 29 GENDER: Cis Male PRONOUNS: He/Him

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Yetunde 'Dea' Shacklebolt FATHER: Nathaniel Adewale Shacklebolt SIBLINGS: Sade Shacklebolt (younger sister)

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Michael B Jordan BUILD: Tall and stocky. HAIR COLOR: Dark brown. EYE COLOR: Dark brown. DOMINANT HAND: Right. ANOMALIES: A deep scar on the right side of his ribs from a battle injury that didn't heal fast enough. FASHION: Deep colours (dark green, royal purple, navy blue) in clothes that he can easily run and fight in. NERVOUS TICS: Twisting the rings that adorn his fingers.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Godric's Hollow BORN:  Shacklebolt Family Home RAISED:  Shacklebolt Family Home PETS: A black cat called Storm.

CAREER: Auror EMPLOYER: Ministry of Magic POLITICAL AFFILIATION: The Order of the Phoenix

DRUGS: Never SMOKES: Occasionally after a long day at work ALCOHOL: Kingsley is fond of a rich red wine, or a smoky whiskey. DIET: Varied. Kingsley did try a vegetarian diet briefly, but quickly reverted back to his old ways.

LANGUAGES: English, French, Spanish.

FEARS: Kingsley fears his sister and his nephew being used against him as the war grows darker. HOBBIES: Kingsley is almost always at work, but when he's not he enjoys wizard's chess and reading muggle books.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Ravenclaw. WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 10 and one quarter inches, Ash wood, unicorn tail hair core, flexible. PATRONUS: Lynx. BOGGART: A dark version of himself, with the dark mark burned into his arm.

Bio:

From a very young age, Kingsley Shacklebolt began to feel a sense of difference. His parents introduced him to other magical purebloods his age, but Kingsley always felt like he was on the outside of it all, more content to sit under a tree and read than run around in the mud or zoom about on toy broomsticks. His parents raised him to be better, whispering ideologies of supremacy and otherness. What his parents didn't know is that Kingsley had befriended a local muggle boy, who was teaching Kingsley aspects of the world that his parents would never allow him to know.

The weight of being an eldest brother was something that settled comfortably on Kingsley's shoulders. Sade was always trailing around after him, but he didn't mind too much. They had a closeness that it seems their parents had underestimated, especially when the two of them banded together. Sade was only two years younger than himself, but he was determined that she would grow up to reject their parents prejudices the way that he had.

At Hogwarts, the sense of difference from his peers became quickly evident. His wandless magic as a child had been incredibly strong, and on one occasion Kingsley had been able to actively control the magic rather than it being guided by his emotions. His magical skill quickly developed in Ravenclaw house, and Kingsley found himself topping each class amongst the many extra-curriculars he engaged in. His power and skill did not go unnoticed, and some of his peers in Slytherin house had tried to recruit Kingsley to their pureblooded gangs. When it became evident that he was not interested in their ideas of supremacy, Kingsley found a target on his back more often than not and quickly rose defensively to meet whatever they would throw at him.

It seemed a natural step to Kingsley to put his magical proficiency to work to protect others. He had always had a strong notion of justice, and as he had grown into himself his morals had grown even firmer. His parents disapproved of his career choice, but Kingsley knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he let his abilities go to waste knowing others were suffering. The auror trials were a breeze to a man of his skill, and before he knew it, Kingsley was out on the field.

His desperate need to stop the growing darkness in the world only grew more urgent with the arrival of his nephew. Kingsley fights for a world where his nephew can grow up safely, without fear for the future.

“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.

As Andromeda flinched, Regulus frowned deeply. He hadn't meant for her to feel bad, but he hadn't considered the way his words would land with her. "No, I didn't mean to....shit, I've fucked this up," he said, placing his head in his hands for a moment. He'd just wanted to talk to someone that would understand, he hadn't wanted to leave her with guilt. "You did what you had to do, what was best for you. That's what I want to do now...I want to do something for me for once," he said, his voice small but strong. "You know Bella...her care manifests intensely. She was doing what she thought was right, she just pushed too far. She was caring in her own way," he said, grimacing as he thought back on the disaster that had been his recent teatime with Bella. "She asked me to perform unforgivables on her recently so that I could demonstrate my aptitude. I was disappointing. I'm a stain on the family name, and I haven't even betrayed anyone yet."

Andromeda's hand in his was a comfort he hadn't known in years - the warmth of family who expected nothing from him other than to be himself. "I will bring more shame to them than you or Sirius ever did. They had me in their claws, and I've slipped away. It will haunt my parents for the rest of their miserable lives," Regulus said sharply. A small laugh left him at her optimism that nobody would kill him. He knew he would be hunted for the rest of his life once he turned, he knew he was a man with an expiration date. "I don't trust the Order not to fuck this up. I've seen them on the other side of a battlefield...they can't manage their own soldiers, never mind this. And I don't want to drag you and Ted into something that could explode with our family, not when you have Nymphadora to think about. You have more important things than me, I just wanted to talk it out...I'll figure something out, I'm sure," he said, though he wasn't sure exactly how that would happen. "I can't do it any more. I'm not sure what it looks like, but I can't fight for the Dark Lord any more."

Reg reached for his cup of tea to take a long sip as Andromeda talked. He laughed at her joke, raising his eyebrow in her direction with a grin. "We've been seeing each other for a few months now. It's still new and exciting, but it feels different. It feels like it could be permanent, maybe, if we can navigate through all of this. Yes, of course, I'd love that."

Andromeda couldn’t help but flinch at his words, at the reminder that she and Sirius had both played some part in this. It made her heart ache to know that because of her he’d gone through more than she could possibly imagine. It wasn’t fair to him. “Regulus I’m so sorry.” She breathed, shaking her head. “I never meant for me leaving to be a punishment for any of you.” She could only imagine how Bellatrix had been, she’d never been the easiest even growing up. “What did Bella do?” She was afraid to know but at the same time felt she had to know. For her sister to be cruel to Regulus, the thought alone infuriated her. She expected it from their parents, but for her sister to do so? It was unforgivable.

She shook her head as he called himself an embarrassment, once more taking his hand in attempt to comfort the both of them. “You are not an embarrassment Reg, you are doing the right thing. Just because our family made their choices doesn’t mean we have to make the same ones. It’s time for us to choose our own paths, decide what is right for us. We will figure it out, we will make sure you’re safe. No one is going to kill you.” She was quiet for a moment as she thought. “We could go to the order, if you tell the truth I’m sure there is something they would do to help. You could help. Or Ted is an auror, I’m sure we could discuss it with him, figure out the best course of action.” She stopped once more, shaking her head as he admitted he had a panic attack. “It’s not too late Reg, you can leave that life. We will figure it out, I promise I’m not going anywhere and I will help however I can.”

Her lips quirked up as she saw the fond way he thought of the guy he was seeing. “As long as you’re happy then I’m glad. Ted was much the same way, I mean have you seen that man? His blood was the last thing I was thinking about.” She joked. “I’d love to meet him though, if you wanted me to of course.”

"If you say so," Fenrir said, quite content to continue pushing Alecto's buttons. He had made his dislike for the woman quite clear, and yet she still seemed to keep coming back as he had made himself quite useful to the cause. "I think you'll find all is as it should be. Again, the Dark Lord himself seems quite pleased. Feel free to take your concerns to him, but you will find there is nothing to be concerned about," Fenrir said, knowing that there was nothing awry within his pack.

"The implication was that the cave would be in place of my home, that is my accusation. Point your finger elsewhere," he said, nose scrunched in distaste. "There is a difference between understanding family before and after you become a parent. I would do anything for my son, and that includes protecting the sanctity of this home. If you say you didn't mean it in that manner, then I will believe you - but heed my warning nonetheless."

Fenrir found it interesting that this visit did not seem to be on behalf of the Dark Lord, but her follow up words betrayed her intent. "Ah, I see. To be crude every man has a weakness which will render him useless for a while with one firm hit, though I assume you know this already," he paused, frowning slightly. "Angus has a wife, Elsie. He also has a particular mistress that he is fond of called Blair from within his pack that Elsie is unaware of. He also has nieces and nephews that I am led to believe he is quite precious about."

"Perhaps this is where we agree to disagree, hm?" The last thing Alecto wanted to do was to continue on this useless banter, though she could, pleasing her greatly, however, there were other matters at hand. "I do not question, Fenrir, I do wish to make sure all is what it should be." If he thought that would push her, it did not, forever dedicated to the cause.

"I never said anything about touching your home, Fenrir. I would watch what accusations you make." She pointed sternly at him. "All I said, was a cave could be ready if you wished." Alecto had no desire to cause rift, but she would not be baited into a corner. The witch was already protective of the little ones growing inside of her. "I know the importance of family."

"I do not wish to dispose of him. The Dark Lord wishes for his service." Did she want to blackmail him? "Perhaps I need to know a weakness, if he decides to let his hands wander again."

It felt like more missions than ever were being sent his way, and he dared not mention it to anyone else lest it sound like he was complaining about serving the Dark Lord. What had initially been nothing more than once a fortnight was becoming at least once every few days, and his other days were taken up with trying to force himself into being the man everyone expected him to be. The sight of Emmeline had the tension releasing from Regulus' shoulders - she didn't have the same level of expectation of him as some of the others, and that settled his nerves about the evening ahead.

Turning his attention back to the building that towered over them, he nodded his agreement. "It's quite beautiful, really. It's a wonder the muggles managed to create something this beautiful all on their own...or perhaps, there was wizardry involved at the time," he mused, although he supposed that if a wizard had been involved in the architecture of the muggle government then that would be documented in one of their history books. "I am familiar with curses, Merlin knows my family has enough cursed artefacts around the house...but I can certainly cast curses too."

It had been months since she'd last gotten a chance to tackle something that didn't directly involve the breaking of curses. Of course, Emmeline loved the idea of anything related to dark magic, but simply breaking things was, in the long-run, boring. What a chance to fate to find herself tasked to take care of something concerning the muggle government. So much more room for fun when those silly muggles were involved. Perhaps the recent revelations had put her in a sour mood regarding those she considered lesser than them, either way, the witch was looking forward to this.

Regulus had always been someone of promising talent, someone that even the older witch could admire for the efforts. "Good evening, Regulus." Was that the hint of a smirk hidden within the corner of her lips? Her eyes moved across the building, scanning the area. For the moment his question registered, yet the answer put on hold. "It is impressive, isn't it? Too bad it's occupied by fools." Attention diverted, it finally returned to the person next to her. "I have." Head nodding she turned toward the wizard. "There is plenty to be done here. What have you been told?" She wasn't someone willing to waste time on repeating things the other already knew. "Let me rephrase it: how familiar are you with curses?" Nothing major was needed. There was hardly a need to set the entire building ablaze, yet. - @battle-scvrs