Reg Shot Caradoc A Disapproving Look, Reaching For His Wand With His Free Hand. Under His Breath He Muttered

Kingsley had been out on investigation work when he'd received an urgent summons to a sleepy muggle village in the Yorkshire Dales that was now the site of a major crime scene. "The obliviators have been called," finished off the message, and with a sigh Kingsley abandoned the trail he'd been following and apparated to just outside of the village. The Dark Mark was high in the sky and must have been visible for miles, which led to a countless number of muggles who's memories needed wiping - never mind the victims of whatever Death Eater had decided to use unknowing muggles as their playthings.

Moving through the carnage, Kingsley joined in the bustling groups of ministry workers who were slowly lowering the floating muggles. He joined in the work of getting the muggles down, but whilst he did so he quickly and harmlessly used legilimency to see if the Death Eater at fault happened to be unmasked in any of their confused memories. It wasn't something he would do on a magical being, but if he interviewed any of these muggles all he would get back was confusion and nonsense. Sometimes, needs must.

Just as he raised his wand to return another muggle back to the ground, a shrill voice broke his concentration and Kingsley drew a sharp breath. "Lestrange...always a pleasure," he said, not shying away from her closeness. He would not be intimidated by this woman. "Oh, and they were so inappropriate...you can't blame me for continuing to hold those against you now, can you?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "As the auror in charge here, I must insist that if you are questioning any muggles that I am present...just to ensure good practice is being followed," he said, a firmness in his tone that confirmed he would not be swayed. "This is an active auror investigation, and certain processes must be followed especially where muggles are involved. I'm sure you understand, you're a reasonable woman."

Starter for: Kingsley Shacklebolt @battle-scvrs Where: a Muggle village, attended by Aurors and the Department of Magical Accidents & Catastrophes When: the middle of the day

As a Senior Minister, Bellatrix did not have to go out on active duties these days. But sometimes she inserted herself into the opportunity like a silver dagger slashing pretty pink flesh; wilfully and dishonourably.

So here she stood, the picture of elegance at a scene of terrible magical disarray. Muggles were floating around like inflated toys, caught in trees and windows and Merlin knew what else. Frankly, she couldn't care less. But her employer did care - and so did the Dark Lord. Aurors had been summoned, for her department had suspected foul play at the hands of Death Eaters.

The Dark Mark shining over the village post office did also slightly give the game away. That wasn't supposed to be there. Bellatrix now stood before it, a look of utter fury ripping her expression in two as she stared up at it and wondered which of her idiot allies had been so stupid to forget the most basic of commands. Eyes expanding in the sallow green haze, her hair whipped around her like streaming black ribbons, nails clenching into the palms of her hands. She was here to make this incident disappear from the Ministry's radar, but the Dark Mark made that work impossible.

Turning away, she headed forcefully towards the village square. She would rip the culprit's identify from one of these vile muggles' minds. That was the only thought in her head, until her sight fell upon Kingsley Shacklebolt and she smiled a smile of avaricious yearning.

"Hello Kingsley, my old friend." Stepping beside him, she stood too close for comfort and delicately brushed some non-existent dust from his cloak. Her eyes lingered on his midriff, where she knew he must harbour a sumptuous scar slashed by her own wand. Oh, how she'd love to see it.... Lips twitching with the involuntarily thirst for it, she pressed them into a curve and looked up into his expression. "You don't still hold a grudge against me, do you? For those inappropriate conversations at Hogwarts?" With a tsk, she stepped back and waved her fingers towards the Dark Mark. True anger filled her expression once more and she channelled the emotion into a new purpose. "Whoever is responsible for that must be caught and punished. You will have your perpetrator when I've finished questioning these muggles."

“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.

He hadn't set out with the intention of trying to find Pandora that evening, after all he had picked the woodlands to apparate to from random chance. He had a list of preferred haunts, and the chances of her being there at the same time without them discussing it beforehand were slim. Still, he should've anticipated it the moment he realised there was a human in the forest. There weren't many wizards who would roam about alone at night in dark woods these days.

Stepping closer towards Dora, Fenrir slipped his wand back into his pocket and smirked in her direction. "Maybe you should be afraid of the creatures...I hear some of them are quite wild," he crooned, coming to a stop by the nearest tree to Dora. Leaning against it casually, Fen narrowed his eyes briefly at her question before shaking his head. "Nance has him tonight. I was just coming for a walk, and here you are. How's your magic coming along?"

Pandora had no rhythm or reason for how she conducted herself. Besides her routine shifts at Cobb and Webb's, the witch marched to the beat of her own drum. The care for her safety usually her last thought, or in most cases, no thought in general. When an idea popped in her head, she fixated until it was sorted, usually a success or a disaster, most times the latter. Tampering with spells and magic had its cost and she cared not for what it, her aim to manipulate to her will.

That is what brought the witch to the woods, in a small clearing by a pond, illuminated lights flickering around to aid in seeing her parchment. Ever since Bellatrix came into the shop and how close her spell came to doing what it was supposed to, she fixated on pushing the strength of her magic to complete the spell. The effort placed in twisting the threads of magic, exhausting herself, that she did not sense another close, forgetting to set up her wards, that Fenrir startled her.

The sudden arrival of Fenrir illicit a small squeak, turning to face him with a huff and her arms bridging over her chest. "I'm not afraid of the creatures that prowl in the woods. Most are merely misunderstood and leave me alone." A beat. "Shouldn't you be at home with Magnus?"

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

Whatever Regulus had thought was going to happen when he had approached Edgar's office, he hadn't anticipated this. All of the emotion that he'd kept bottled up within him seemed to explode out, in a way that was entirely undignified of a pure-blooded heir. Still, he would not entirely break down in front of this man - no, he would save that for when he got home. He could feel it brewing within him, magical energy thrumming to escape his veins. "I wanted to be enough for them. I wanted them to be proud," he said, knowing that he had no family now that would be proud. He had done too much evil for Sirius to ever look at him with pride again, and his parents...well, if this ever came out, he would be surprised if they didn't kill him themselves. "I always tried to make it painless. I didn't like...I don't like the torture. It never sat right with me. It was always quick, and painless," he confessed quietly.

Reg scoffed quietly as Edgar continued to speak on his relationship with Sirius, and he shook his head. "I appreciate you can't weigh in, but I doubt Sirius will want to have that conversation with me. Why would he want his little brother hanging around again with all his baggage when he has his wonderful, perfect friends who do no wrong?" he said, a little childishly.

"That is one thing for you to say, sat there at your auror's desk. I appreciate you risk your life on a battlefield...but I have family who will kill me, if this comes out. Friends who won't take this betrayal lying down. This is a significant risk, Mr Bones. I am putting my life in your hands to feed you information...there is very little I am comfortable with now, but I will do it anyways. It may grow easier, but for now...I am betraying all I have ever known," he said quietly, the weight of his decision now settling on his shoulders.

"No names, not yet," he said quite abruptly. He would not betray his friends in such a manner, not so openly. "There will be a raid at the docks in Liverpool this coming Friday, several Death Eaters will be present...if you get there early, you may be able to lay anti-apparition wards when they arrive. Several important members of the muggle parliament are currently under the imperius curse, and are working to bury news of any muggles that go missing," he said, reaching for some parchment and a quill to write their names down. "I'm sure you already are, but keep an eye on the businesses down Knockturn Alley. Illegal artefacts are being sold there that are being used against muggles and mudbloods, and some heirlooms are being transformed into cursed objects...the Black artefact you showed me earlier is one of them."

The more he etched away at the cold exterior that surrounded the youngest Black, Edgar felt that there was hope from the darkness there were having a hard time coming out from. Since the incident with Frank Longbottom and his near death experience, a fuel lit underneath him and he was more determined to shift the scales in their favour. It took one word, genocide, that broke the young wizard and relief washed over him.

He sat there in silence and let Regulus unpack it all, allow him the opportunity to let it off his chest and talk through all that pained him. This only confirmed that the Black's were death eater's, though for now, he wished to keep that information to himself. "I think you knew from the beginning that you were not like them. That what they are doing was wrong and I understand why you would hang on like you did. Family is family, even if they are evil." He paused. "I will say killing from either side is not easy, the idea of taking a life, but sometimes in battle, it's about survival, and you do what needs to be done."

"I cannot speak for your brother on why he left the way he did. That is a conversation the two of you will need to have at some point." There could be tension between the brothers, but he knew Sirius, family was still family, even if they chose the right side a little later in life. "I will keep that in mind." He was not going to argue, them sorting it out was a bonus.

"At this point, with this war that is hanging in the distance, we have all signed our death warrant, it is a matter of what side do you want to be on when the inevitable happens." Edgar knew his position would have many eyes on him, paint him a target, but he was a man that fought for what was right, no matter the cost. "I would not ask you to do anything you were not comfortable with, but all I ask is if you have anything that could help us. We would gain some advantage with having someone on the inside, even for a little while." The last thing he would want was to put Regulus at risk.

"What do you know now? Names?" They could always start with names. "This would allow us to watch them, to know who might come after us." With enough evidence, they could be at least start building a case.

TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET AS PAUL ATREIDES Dune: Part Two dir. Denis Villeneuve

Fenrir had a feeling that they would end up circling back to the subject of Anders Greyback later on in the evening. He'd expected further questions immediately, but equally he wasn't surprised that Pandora wanted to go straight from business to pleasure. "Oh, he deserved it all and more," Fenrir growled out, his heart black and bitter. Anders had shown Fenrir how not to be a father, and he was grateful that the man would never have a chance to know Magnus.

With hands firmly on Pandora's hips, Fen took the opportunity as she bared her neck to him to press hot kisses down her jawline. He was preparing to apparate them, wanting to get into the privacy of his own home otherwise they would end up just staying here - which, honestly, he wouldn't mind too much either. "My darling, what do we need to do? Can it not be done at home? I'm an impatient man.."

When it came to Fenrir, she had no desire to tame the beast that he was, she fully accepted all that he was. Body flushing against his, like two magnets drawn to each other, touch one of the ways they were able to express what they meant to each other. In moments like these, all around them faded into darkness, leaving the beast that enthralled her entirely at her mercy. Pandora did not miss the flash of desire that burned in his eyes. "Good," a single word that held his promise of what would come.

Pandora had made a mental note, tucked away in the back of her mind, to ask him more about his father. She wished not to spoil the moment they were sharing, but felt there was more to his story that perhaps he would share with her. The stories he would tell her about his life and pack, she could listen to endlessly, finding his voice soothing.

"Then he deserved to get what he had coming." The witch could only assume something terrible happened and she already had a hatred for the dead man. Her head lolled back against the tree trunk, wild hues drinking in the beast in front of her, breaking away from the heated, passionate, kiss. "Yours...." Desperate to find release for the growing anticipation of what was to come building inside of her, but at the mention of the clock, realising she had to protect him.

"We must do one thing first." She glances over to the clock.

VILLANELLE Killing Eve / 4.08

Kingsley cast his eyes over Aurora with a surveying eye, and her nervousness was evident. He didn’t want to terrify the poor girl, but equally, he was not willing to send unprepared fighters out into the field only to have to knock on their loved one’s doors and deliver the news that unfortunately their daughter had died. Rolling his shoulders as he settled himself for a defensive fight, Kingsley watched her body language with interest. He felt her need to prove herself, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for her. Deflecting her charm with a lazy flick of his wand, Kingsley sent back his own disarming charm. “Disarm me any way you can – assume your opponent will defend with the intent to attack. Next time, I will defend with jinxes."

Aurora was slightly nervous meeting with Kingsley. There was an intimidation that seemed to linger in the air and this need to make a good impression. It was important to show him that she was capable of taking care of herself, so that he would tell Edgar it was fine sending her back out on missions. "I know better than showing up late." Not that she would anyway, being prompt was one of her traits. Her eyes widen when he asks her to disarm him, glancing around where she could feel the magic of the charms surrounding them. Her wand secure in her grasp. She raises her arm, her gaze fixating on his wand. "Expelliarmus." She speaks clearly and sternly, flicking her wrist in the direction of where he is holding his wand.

Irritated and overstimulated from the busy shopping street, Regulus wasn't trying to be a pain to anyone else and yet the other woman's attitude immediately got his back up. Drawing on every inch of bitterness his mother taught him, Regulus stared at Georgette with a cool stare. "You're not the only one in a time crunch, so you can wait your turn politely," he said, his gaze dipping to the mess of her hands. "You can't brew in that state, surely. You might be better going to Mungos for a pre-brewed potion. These ingredients are going to do nothing for you," he said haughtily, before reaching for a vial of Jewelweed.

While working with her hands and the splinters that lived in Georgette's fingers was something she lived for, there were times that she had to get some of the wood out of her skin. Normally she had a brew set up for such occasions but had realized, while bleeding, that the last drop wasn't going to do what was needed to repair her skin. Damn. She hated leaving the store but she couldn't work well if her hands were to the point they had found themselves -- she had gone a little too far without healing herself properly. It would be great to say it was the first time but when it came to her work that wasn't the case nor would it be the last.

She washed her hands with soap and water then gathered her things to run to the Apothecary, rushing between people, trying to get the errand done as quickly as possible. Unfortunately when she got into the store someone was standing just where she needed to be. If Georgette had it her way she would have just shoved him out of the way and not thought twice about it but there were too many people around and she didn't want to deal with attention from others. "I don't know who you think you are but some of us are in a bit of a time crunch so if you could --" she motioned for him to shove off while trying desperately not to shove him herself.