Fenrir Had Warded The Woods To Prevent Any Unwanted Visitors Whilst They Worked, Wanting To Be Entirely

Regulus had tried to pick a quiet time to visit Diagon Alley, but it seemed that no time these days was ever truly quiet. Even with the ongoing war, people still didn't seem to shy away from large crowds or bustling busy areas. Drawing his coat tighter around himself, Regulus tried to shrink into himself so as to not draw attention. If his parents were with him, they would chastise him for not holding himself in a manner befitting the Black heir. Slipping quietly into the Apothecary, Regulus didn't take stock of any other customers in the store as he began browsing the various bottles. At the sound of footsteps and someone clearing their throat directly behind him, Regulus straightened his spine and turned slightly. "I'm browsing this shelf at the moment, you'll have to wait."

Narrowing his eyes at the other man's amusement, Regulus frowned. "I would qualify it as stealing. It's only polite, see, if someone's stood here first. If you had been here before myself, I would let you take as much of the stock as you needed and made do with whatever was left...like polite, reasonable people do," Regulus said, determined to die on this hill. "Oh, I've tried. Every time I come anywhere near him the owner seems to disappear, and I'm left with the poor people who run the tills."

Frank's lips quirked before he could help it. "I'm not really sure I can qualify that as stealing, though it's definitely unfair." He knew that Regulus was young, almost impossibly young to be so well-spoken and austere, but sometimes the young age showed more than others. "Perhaps you ought to take it up with the owner. Maybe they'd be able to set some aside for you if you gave them forewarning."

Kingsley looked at his friend with a curious eye, wondering exactly what Edgar had been doing that day. "I'd like to tell you that you look wonderful, but my mother raised me not to tell lies," he smirked, knowing that the next time he came back from a mission bedraggled that Edgar would rake him over the coals. "Feels like each day is getting a little tougher, it's no wonder the bars are getting busier," he mused, his tone taking a more serious turn. "Ros is going to be raking it in."

Given the way their head auror had been badgering Kingsley for weeks to get his pile of paperwork sorted, he figured that they would be forgiving that Kings had disappeared half an hour early. Kingsley kept taking the night shifts anyways, he was due a little good grace. "Isn't it always?" he rolled his eyes fondly. His body language shifted at the mention of Sade, shoulders tightening and his easy-going expression morphing into one of concern. "She's....fine. You know what she wants, but I can't say I'm pleased about it. I'm worried for her, but equally, I won't stop her if that's what she decides. I've made my concerns known. We're both blood traitors, it's not like we're safe anyway...I just don't want her to put herself, or Jasper, at any unnecessary risk."

Edgar let out a chuckle, fingers combing through his hair, shaking his head. "I think I look the same I feel." He was looking forward to heading home after a drink to take a long shower. He had a few more days before Hestia would be moving in with him and he was trying not to have any regrets about it. This was the best for the both of them.

He knew they had a little more time before they should leave, but considering the amount of overtime he had put in recently, there should be no issue. "You won't hear me protesting." Both hands push into the armrests of the chair to stand up. "First round is on you though," the grins, heading towards the front door of their department. "How is your sister doing?" He knew Sade had asked for more involvement with the Order and wanted to talk to Kings about it.

Watching the other woman shrink away from him, Reg briefly felt vindicated before an irritating feeling that may have been called regret prickled at his skin. He might be grumpy, but he supposed that Greta didn't deserve to receive the brunt of that grumpiness. Stepping back towards her, Regulus tapped her shoulder gently. "Hey...I'm sorry. That was rude of me."

Greta grimaced at his tone, shrinking back. "I'm sorry. I'll be out of your hair in a minute." Quickly grabbing the things she needed she stepped back, making her way to the register.

(cw: brief mentions of child abuse) "To know me is to hate me, is to hate what I've become."

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Regulus Arcturus Black NICKNAMES: Reg, Reggie. AGE: 21 GENDER: Cis Male PRONOUNS: He/Him

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Walburga Black FATHER: Orion Black SIBLINGS: Sirius Black (estranged)

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Timothee Chalamet BUILD: Slender. HAIR COLOR: Dark brown. EYE COLOR: Hazel. SKIN COLOR: Pale. DOMINANT HAND: Right. ANOMALIES: The Dark Mark on his left arm. No other anomalies - the male heirs to the House of Black had to be perfect (meaning, his parents always ensured any marks were healed once the lesson had set in). SCENT: Expensive aftershave, sandalwood shampoo. ACCENT: English southern upper class ALLERGIES: N/a DISORDERS: N/a FASHION: Regulus lives fairly exclusively in black. NERVOUS TICS: Leg bouncing when he's trying to think, wand twirling between his fingers.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Small terraced house in Mould-on-the-Wold, alone. BORN:  12 Grimmauld Place RAISED:  12 Grimmauld Place PETS: Tawny Owl that Regulus has had since his first year at Hogwarts, named Apollo.

CAREER: Unspeakable in Training EMPLOYER: Ministry of Magic POLITICAL AFFILIATION: The Death Eaters

DRUGS: Occasionally SMOKES: Regulus started smoking cigarettes shortly after leaving Hogwarts. If that coincides with the time that he took the Dark Mark, then that's merely a coincidence. ALCOHOL: Regulus does drink alcohol. Regulus is quite fond of a muggle whiskey that he tried once, though he would never dare to confess that to his family. DIET: Varied, but very rich.

LANGUAGES: English, French, Latin.

FEARS: Regulus has claustrophobia, drilled into him when his mother would fly into a rage and lock him into a closet as punishment until Reg begged for forgiveness for whatever misdemeanour he had committed. Regulus is also terrified of being left behind whilst the rest of his family and friends move forwards with their lives. He's scared that he is too much for people, that he has too much baggage and nobody can manage it adequately. HOBBIES: Quidditch/flying, reading, wizards chess.

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: The front room of his home, the first place he has ever felt truly comfortable in. He enjoys curling up in front of a roaring fire and settling down with a good book. SPORTS TEAM: Wimbourne Wasps GAME: Wizards chess. FOOD: A comforting beef stew with dumplings. BEVERAGE: A good cup of tea. COLOR: Black.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Slytherin. WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 12 and three quarter inches, Cypress wood, Dragon Heartstring core, supple. AMORTENTIA: Burning candles, roasted garlic, spices, the air just after a heavy rainstorm. PATRONUS: Regulus is unable to cast a patronus. BOGGART: Himself. Regulus is terrified of people seeing him the way he sees himself - broken, selfish, alone.

Bio:

Regulus is the second child born to Orion and Walburga Black. From a young age, it was drilled into Regulus that they were special - their family were ancient and noble, and better than even other purebloods. All Regulus ever wanted was the approval of his parents and his brother, and so he would do anything to keep himself in their good graces. He dutifully listened to his mother's droning lectures about their self-importance and took as much of it as he could on board, desperate to keep his mother happy. There was nothing more important than family loyalty, this much was clear to Regulus.

Regulus remembers tearfully saying goodbye to Sirius on Platform 9 and 3/4s when Sirius went to Hogwarts for the first time. His mother had clipped him around the ear for that, telling him firmly that boys didn't cry. The news that Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor hit Grimmauld Place with an impact no less than if a bomb had gone off, and Regulus knew then that he would beg and plead with the sorting hat to put him in Slytherin even if it wasn't right. He couldn't let his parents down, not when Sirius had. One of the Black boys had to uphold family tradition, and his big brother had passed that mantle onto Reggie's small shoulders.

He needn't have worried for when it was his turn to go to Hogwarts a year later the sorting hat had barely touched his head before it yelled Slytherin loudly, and Regulus slept comfortably that evening knowing his parents would be proud. Regulus found a comfortable rhythm at Hogwarts and found his way to the top of several classes, and he found a group of Slytherin friends that he fit in with (much to his brother's dismay). Regulus loved learning and he especially loved magical theory, fascinated by the way things work. When it came time for his career conversation with the head of house, Regulus expressed some interest in the Department of Mysteries as an Unspeakable. He wanted to know more about their world and the way things worked.

His family were aligned with the Dark Lord long before Regulus had left Hogwarts, so it was no surprise to him that his mother suggested strongly that he offer himself into the Dark Lord's service. Having fallen in with a crowd of future Death Eaters at Hogwarts, Regulus had found himself admiring the Dark Lord and his magical skill. He took the Dark Mark at age sixteen and when he returned home that evening, he didn't think he'd ever seen more pride shining on his parents faces.

Now, war is ongoing and Regulus is starting to have second thoughts about his allegiances. He sees the torture and mutilation that is happening in the Dark Lord's service, and he's uncertain that he wants to be associated with such blatant cruelty. His uncertainties are kept close to his chest, terrified of what might happen if he ever confessed to his doubts. He wonders if his brother might harbour him if he ever fled the Death Eaters, or if Sirius would turn his back on him forever. He wonders if it's even possible to leave the service of the Dark Lord, or whether his cousin might hunt him down and torture him for his disloyalty. Regulus lies awake most nights pondering the future, and wondering if he made the right call.

Christmas day had been entirely chaotic as he had thought it might be. Magnus was old enough now to be excited about their annual traditions, and Fen had spent the night in Nancy's spare room so that the three of them could be together as soon as Magnus woke up. That wake up call had been at 5am, with his excitable son not settling down for another few hours until Fenrir allowed him to open one small present because Santa had been. Magnus had been full of energy all morning, practically bouncing off the walls with Christmas spirit, until he finally settled down for a nap in the early afternoon after lunch.

On Magnus' first Christmas, Fenrir had sat down with Nancy and they'd decided that they would follow English traditions for Christmas but Fenrir still liked to add some Norwegian touches. As a family, they still celebrated Julaften but presents and the large lunch were saved for Christmas day itself. Magnus had his stocking on Christmas eve, and they had eaten traditional Norwegian food before Magnus went to bed to await Santa's arrival. He may no longer live in Norway, and potentially would never return, but he wanted his son to know the traditions of his heritage.

When Magnus went to sleep on the evening of Christmas day, Fenrir had bid Nancy goodnight and headed home. Entirely exhausted from two full days, Fenrir had sprawled out on his couch, an arm tossed lazily over his eyes. He had a brief power nap before the clock's chimes awoke him, and he had just a moment before Pandora arrived at their agreed time. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he wrapped his arms around the witch. "Merry Christmas, Dora," he returned her kiss, one of his hands coming up to cup her cheek. "Magnus has been an absolute force of nature for two full days...it's such a joy to see him so happy. How was your day?"

where: his cottage when: christmas night who: @battle-scvrs (Fenrir Greyback)

Pandora had spent the day with her family, trying to enjoy the time spent with them, but it was clear how she didn't fit in with them. She could appreciate that they seemed to focus on Octavius and how it was time for him to marry, and they spent time arguing over the idea of a potential arranged marriage. Most times she believed her parents would never bother with her, casting her off as a defect.

The day and dinner passed, finding herself making her way back home for her to pack for the night. Her night was planned. It was waiting for the time to come where she could be where she wanted to be.

When the clock struck eight, she moved from her desk, closing the notes she was working on. Her bag was at her side, reaching down to hold onto it, and that is when she apparated to his home, popping in the foyer.

It was the cracking of a fire that let her know where she could find him, making her way to the living room to find him sprawled on the couch. "Merry Christmas." Pandora sauntered over, instantly coming to lay her body on top of his, leaning down for a soft kiss. "I hope you had a good day."

There was a saying that Regulus perhaps should have remembered upon entry to the Lestrange household, and that was 'don't poke the bear'. Upon seeing Alecto's eyes, it was fairly clear to him that his humour and general wit was not welcome here presently, and he shot her a wide grin. It would intimidate him if not for the fact he knew he held a soft spot in her dark heart, and his parents had trained him to be able to take a beating. He mimed as if he was knitting to her, before holding his hands up in surrender. 'Sorry,' he mouthed, trying to school his features to look somewhat sheepish.

Despite being a little shit, Regulus didn't want to truly piss off one of the few people that was still in his corner.

An owl had been sent earlier to warn her of his appearance. She was inclined to send one back refusing his visit, but with being home from Hogwarts for the weekend, and no use of her needed for the cause at the moment, his presence wasn't entirely horrid.

Each word that uttered from his incompetent mouth ignited a fire inside of her, her fingers itching to wring his neck for being so insolent. Eyes narrowed like daggers at the young Black wizard, her wand in a close hand, where she pointed it at him. "Silencio" A single word held him tight lip. Alecto turns to face him. "It appears Regulus Black, you have forgotten your manners and who I am." A coldness to her tone, not unusual for her. "Do not make me regret allowing you over." She warns, taking a deep breath. "If I let you speak, will you behave? I will not hold back from torturing you if you try me."

“It’s not easy making a name for yourself, where do I draw the line? I never thought I'd be in this far.”

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Cassandra Joanne Borgin NICKNAMES: Cass, Cassie. AGE: 29 GENDER: Cis Female PRONOUNS: She/Her

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Joanne Borgin FATHER: Henry Borgin SIBLINGS: Abigail Borgin, Nicholas Borgin (Death Eater).

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Jodie Comer BUILD: Slim, but muscled. HAIR COLOR: Dirty blonde. EYE COLOR: Hazel. SKIN COLOR: Pale. DOMINANT HAND: Right. ANOMALIES: Freckles on her cheeks, calluses on her fingers and some faded scarring on her wrists from potions accidents. SCENT: Usually sterile whilst working due to cleansing charms, otherwise Cassandra usually smells faintly floral. ACCENT: Strong yorkshire accent ALLERGIES: N/a DISORDERS: N/a FASHION: Cassandra is often found in healers robes, but otherwise wears a mix of casual dresses or shirts and trousers. Occasionally she will dress up formally. NERVOUS TICS: Biting down on her lower lip

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Semi-detached house in Godric's Hollow. BORN:  Outskirts of Leeds, Yorkshire. RAISED:  Outskirts of Leeds, Yorkshire. PETS: A small black cat called Jinx.

CAREER: Healer EMPLOYER: Private healer, with some occasional on call shifts at St Mungos where the healers become overwhelmed after battles. POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Neutral.

DRUGS: Occasionally to wind down after a long shift. SMOKES: Only when drunk. ALCOHOL: Cassandra is very fond of a glass of wine, but she is also known to wash away a long and difficult day with a glass of vodka tonic. DIET: Vegetarian.

LANGUAGES: English, French, Spanish, Gobbledegook, Runic Magic.

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: The Yorkshire dales. SPORTS TEAM: Appleby Arrows GAME: Exploding Snap FOOD: A hearty vegetable dhal with rice and naan. BEVERAGE: Strong Italian coffee, or a glass of red wine. COLOR: Purple.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Ravenclaw. BLOOD PURITY: Pure-blooded WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 10 and a quarter inches, Willow wood, Dragon Heartstring core, springy. AMORTENTIA: Bakewell tart, dusty shelves, dragonhide gloves, morning dew. PATRONUS: Cassandra is unable to produce a patronus. BOGGART: (to be decided)

Bio:

Cassandra Borgin was born as the second child to Joanne and Henry Borgin. Henry is the co-owner of a magical antiques and artefacts shop located on Knockturn Alley, and has carefully maintained an air of neutrality his whole life despite his career as a dealer of dark artefacts. As a child Cassandra remembers her father putting protective spells over her hands so that she could spend her days in the store with him and not risk accidentally touching, though she was usually hidden at the back of the store with her nose in a book. Cassandra's older brother Nicholas was fiercely protective of his sister, and that protectiveness only grew as their youngest sibling arrived when Cassandra was six.

As she spent much of her time surrounded by dark artefacts, Cassandra found herself wanting to curiously take them apart and figure out how things worked. Her father caught her on more than one occasion pulling apart a dangerous artefact with her hands, and no amount of warning against it would quell Cassandra's curious mind. Eventually, Joanne put her foot down and said that Cassie wouldn't be allowed to go to the store any more otherwise she was at risk of killing herself and anyone else in the store at the time. Little Cassie didn't understand why she was being punished for her curiosity - she just wanted to understand how the world worked, and what her papa's work involved.

Seeing that her daughter had an inquisitive mind, Joanne spent a lot of time taking Cassandra to the magical libraries. She quickly moved on from childish books like Babbity Rabbity to Hogwarts textbooks, and by the time Cassandra came of age to attend Hogwarts she had already read all of both first and second years text books, along with additional material. Her interest in taking things apart and understanding how they worked had led to Cassie spending time with her mother brewing potions, and practicing wand motions long before she had her own.

Her older brother had been at Hogwarts before herself and had been sorted into Slytherin, and the family expectation was that Cassandra would continue the tradition. She'd barely had a moment to think when the sorting hat touched her head as it shouted 'Ravenclaw' loudly, and she stumbled in surprise towards the Ravenclaw table. Within Ravenclaw house, she found kinship. As much as her mother wanted to foster her education, they couldn't hold conversations the way that other Ravenclaws did in the common room. While she had been apprehensive initially, Cassandra quickly came to love her house. School itself was a breeze, with Cassie regularly coming top in her classes.

When it came time to pick her OWLs and then her NEWTS, Cassie's original interest in taking things apart and putting them back together seemed to win out as she was drawn towards a healing path. Whilst taking apart dark artefacts was interesting, Cassie was fascinated by the way the human body worked and how different spells and curses could affect the inner workings of the body. She wanted to be different than the rest of her family who seemed content to continue the family legacy of artefact dealing, she wanted to carve her own place in the world and make her own legacy.

Her high grades were more than enough to get onto the St Mungos training course, but Henry and Joanne deemed the St Mungos course too poor for their daughter. Henry had built up a small fortune over the years via the antiques shop, never mind his illicit dealings of forbidden creatures and potions ingredients, and they used some of that money to send Cassie abroad to learn - firstly to France, then for further study in Spain. Whilst studying, there was a heavy focus on the healing qualities of potions and Cassie is now fully adept at creating a variety of healing potions which she keeps a heavy stock of. She has carved a basement out of her home in Godric's Hollow and uses that as a potions lab.

Cassie spent four years abroad and came back with all the relevant qualifications for healing. In her absence, the Dark Lord had been gathering power and many of the other pure-bloods she knew had pledged themselves to his service, including her older brother. Her father remained neutral, but it was widely accepted that he aligned to the dark arts. When she returned to England, Cassie felt some pressure to join the Death Eaters but she resisted - her focus was on healing, regardless of what side they were on. Cassandra does broadly agree with some of the Dark Lord's ideologies, but she cannot support it fully when her focus is the damage caused by the Death Eaters that he lets run riot. Like her father, Cassandra maintains quiet neutrality which allows her to heal those on both sides of the war.

Cassandra now works predominantly as a private healer for pure-blooded families who want a discreet service at home, rather than attending St Mungos. She is on retainer at St Mungos if they were ever entirely overwhelmed, and has been called in once or twice, but Cassie prefers the more personal method of private healing. She has made her position known that if a Death Eater were to come to her with injuries that they could not attend St Mungos with, those injuries and the circumstances with which they were gained would remain entirely confidential. She's still curious about the way the world works, and on occasions where she has healed wounds from particularly dark magic, Cassie has taken a copy of the magical signature and studies them at home to see if she can figure out a way to counter it.

— ‘ the hunter’s moon is shining, i’m running with the wolves tonight . . . ’

𓈒　　˙　　⊹　　‧　　☾　　. 　 　 ˚ 　 　 ⁺ 　 𓂂 　 ֗ 　

Regulus had hardly expected a response to his owl at all, never mind a positive response. He wouldn't have blamed Andromeda if she'd ignored him; Merlin only knew he'd treated her poorly in the past. His recent experiences had driven him to write a letter, and now he was expecting his estranged cousin at his home. He'd been pacing around his living room nervously for a while, wondering if she would actually show up and then wondering what he would say to her if she did. It'd been a long, long time since he'd been fully honest with someone, and he knew the danger that it put himself in. The feelings of discontentment and unhappiness had been building for a while, maybe even for years, and Regulus had finally been pushed to breaking point. The sound of a knock at the door broke Reg out of his musing, and with shaking hands he opened the front door. "You came...Here, come in out of the cold," he said, gesturing through to his living room. "Can I get you something to drink?" @tonksxandromeda