Fenrir Greyback

“Just because you don’t have the Mark, it doesn’t mean you’re not one of us.” Sinistra replied, shifting her weight to one foot, obviously bored of this conversation. He was one of them, whether he liked it or not. He attended meetings, he was in far too deep to just bow out now. Yes, she was still mad at him for not doing what he was told, but she did her job by making sure he understood what he’d done wrong. This was simply strike one, and she certainly wasn’t against going down harder on him if there was a strike two.

“Good.” She nodded once, relaxing her stance. Hopefully he really did understand, Fenrir certainly didn’t want to see her truly pissed off. “Now, since you were off trying to bring in recruits, do you have a number for me?” Sinistra questioned, her arms still folded over her chest, yet she was visibily more at ease than previously. “I do have to report back to the Dark Lord, and things will go much more smoothly if I provide him with some good news.”

Not having the mark was the only thing that convinced Fenrir he wasn’t one of them. Not really. The Dark Lord did not see him as equal to the others and why should he? They were on opposing sides in the grand scheme of things. Once this war between the two factions of the wizarding war was over there was a much greater war to be fought. And Fenrir was starting to think the werewolves wouldn’t be alone on their side. He’d heard more about centaurs and goblins and their own struggles living under wizard rule. Fenrir was sure this war was just the beginning and once it was over he would turn on his so called master. He just needed to survive until then, and to survive he needed to play along. “Do you doubt my loyalty? Have I not been a willing servant until now? I think I’ve proven I’m one of you, and I will continue to do so.”

Coming up with a number was an impossible task. He’d aim low, hopefully keep them off his back for a while, and he’d find recruits. He was already forming strategies in case he got desperate - biting impressionable young wixen and convincing them that the Dark Lord was their only way forward. He couldn’t sacrifice any of his true family, but he wasn’t opposed to doing what was necessary for their and his survival. “Three, for now. You’ll have to give me some time but I know they’ll be loyal to the cause.” Or at least they’d say they were.

It took her only a moment longer than usual to calm Brisket, the promise of treats usually got him to sit pretty like a good little boy, and she huffed slightly as she looked back up to Fenrir and tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. “You’re giving him far too much credit.” She laughed, patting the pup on his head fondly and ignoring the small whine he let out. 

She made her way to the kitchen as he surveyed the work she’d asked of him, getting Brisket the promised treat and watching as he pranced off with it. “Yes, just there,” She called, pointing as she came closer. “At the top. It wobbles a bit, I think I banged into it with….” Rita paused, biting back a smirk and deciding not to finish that particular train of thought. “Something.” Or someone. Fenrir would surely be able to fix it in no time at all, if his past work was anything to go by. “And there’s a window in the kitchen that’s stuck if you’ve got time." 

Fenrir was glad when the dog left. As often as dog owners assured him their pup wasn’t that smart, he knew they were better than most wizards at figuring out what he was. He smiled along all the same. 

Examining the banister he immediately saw the issue, one of the wooden posts being knocked ever so slightly out of place. Her explanation of what happened was lacking and from the pause he had a feeling there was a story behind it. “The top is only wobbling because the base is slightly out of line, won’t take long to fix at all, in fact I think just a little push back into place and an adhesive spell should fix it and I can have a look at the window. But if it keeps knocking out of place I can have a closer look.” He attempted to wobble the post next to it which was stuck firmly in place. “You must’ve hit it pretty hard.” He commented, a flicker of a smirk on his features. There was a reason she wasn’t sharing her story.

When he’d first been invited to Fenrir’s home, he’d accepted of course (he was raised with manners, if little else), but it was with no small amount of trepidation. The Shrieking Shack? Surely the thing wasn’t even inhabitable - especially not after the marauders had gotten through with it. But as he stood on the doorstep now, he couldn’t help but be impressed. He knew the other man was skilled with this sort of handiwork, but it was so beyond his own skill set that he had to stand in wonder for a moment before knocking on the door. 

He opened his mouth to greet Fenrir, but closed it again as he was never given the chance. Raising an eyebrow, he held back a small bout of laughter and simply nodded. “I assure you I am far from a picky eater.” He promised, nodding his thanks as he was invited in and stepped over the threshold. “One of the few perks of growing up poor.” He drawled, rolling his eyes sarcastically although he was serious about the sentiment - if he had been a picky eater, he simply wouldn’t have eaten. “The place looks alright.” It was the highest praise Severus handed out, but he let his approval seep into his tone as he shrugged out of his jacket. “Do you drink red?” He asked, holding up the bottle he’d snagged on his way over, unwilling to show up empty handed. 

Fenrir wasn’t entirely used to having guests but attempted to be a good host, leaving Severus through to the kitchen where the food was cooking, glad he didn’t have to fuss with it much - just take it out when the timer pinged. “Well, it depends what you define as a picky eater. I’m sure you’d be disgusted at some of the things I’ve eaten in wolf form.” Which was fair. Fenrir had preyed on some animals that in his human form he would think were unimaginable to eat. “Turnips are a delight in comparison. But at least I had the choice.” Fenrir hadn’t exactly grown up wealthy, but together the pack had had everything they needed. He had lots of hand-me-downs, and things that were cobbled together by pack members with special skills, much like his own skill in building, but he never had to fear going hungry. 

“Thanks.” Fenrir attempted to match Severus’ nonchalance, although the compliments on his home always pleased him. With the amount of love and work he’d put into it, it was hard not to be invested. “Red is good.” He fetched them both glasses, placing them on the counter for Severus to pour while he busied himself preparing plates and cutlery. “Tell me how life has been treating you Severus. Good news, preferably.”

Daisy sat in contemplation of his question. She did love the layout of her greenhouse, and she did intend on putting another extension charm on the new one. However, her greenhouse was overflowing and it had been for quite some time, perhaps it would be in her best interest for it to be bigger. “No, I think it should be larger than my current one.” She said after a moment, watching as he began to sketch, “Even if I don’t have enough to fill it up right now, I’d like to have some room to grow.” She giggled softly at her joke, wondering if he’d pick up on it. It was a poor attempt, but at least she was still able to make herself smile.

She nodded her head as he explained the cost, but she still wasn’t entirely sure whether or not he was giving himself a fair wage. Given their friendship, she wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t charge her the full amount, it seemed no one ever wanted to charge her the proper price. She’d make sure to slip a few extra galleons in for him. He worked hard and he certainly deserved to be compensated for it.

Eyes growing wide as she looked back up to Fenrir, she stared blankly at him for a moment. If she were honest, she wanted to avoid the majority of her visitors. It seemed like there was a never-ending string of Death Eaters showing up to her greenhouse in need of ingredients. Most of them were rather rude and impatient, and most days she wanted to just hide away from them. “Perhaps a storm cellar…” She said, chewing on the inside of her cheek. It wasn’t a bad idea, especially considering she’s had people like Sylar showing up more regularly.

Fenrir gave a chuckle at her joke, looking up from his drawing to give a fake disappointed look, as if his jokes were any better. “Come up with that on the spot, did you?” He teased, clearly still amused as he returned to his sketch, extending the back of the greenhouse to make use of the area of the land Daisy had. When he finished he presented it to her, leaning back to have a proper look. It was a big job, especially if they incorporated the basement he had planned. 

“We can keep the entrance hidden, maybe it can sink into the floor and hide the edges. I’ll have a think.” If she wanted to call it a storm cellar they could call it that but they both knew what it was really for. “I’ll make sure its completely storm-proof where I can, but magic reinforcement wouldn’t hurt. That’s not exactly my wheelhouse though, I can suggest someone to help though if that’s what you’d like. So long as you feel safe down there. Might be a good place to keep extra tools too. Its not all doom and gloom.”

“Registry?” He hadn’t actually heard that before, and it was a bit alarming to consider. Why would they need to register? Remus was a werewolf, and a rather gifted wizard from what he saw, so why need a registry? Well, the Ministry wasn’t exactly hiring persons that would offer any genuine good to come to the world. Xenophilius was just glad that Dora was capable of keeping anyone who would try to sway her to quit away from her office. Usually, he pitied anyone who fell into her hexes–she seldom used any that didn’t last for extended periods of time.

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how it feels to live like that, and it’s not a very promising image for Wizards and Witches. I hope you don’t associate that kind of action with Dora, she really wouldn’t be caught dead treating anyone like that.” Even now, Xenophilius focused more on how Pandora was viewed than himself. He was used to negative assumptions, but he couldn’t bare the idea of anyone aiming it towards her. 

Hogsmeade was an area that Xen hadn’t actually gone since his time at Hogwarts. In all honesty, the lack of protection from Bella left him to be more secluded than ever. “I’m sure Dora already said so but, you’re more than welcome here if ever you need a place to turn to. Lucinda has one of the spare rooms for herself, but we have two extra if you ever need one.” It was rare for him to offer it to anyone, especially since he was trying to get rid of people staying with them instead of inviting. 

“And believe me when I say that Dora will not accept no as an answer. She may be small but I have seen her make most of the men in her life give in rather fast. I’ve also seen her temper; and I’d really prefer not to repair the back of the house again.”

“The Beast Division run it at the Ministry. Keeps track of Werewolves they identify. Its why most of us keep our heads down. Don’t want to be tracked by them. I want to live my life away from their view.” Fenrir had also broken many of the laws the Ministry had set out regarding Werewolves. He’d purposely spread lycanthropy for one, and then there was the incident he’d rather not think about that had put him on their map in the first place. He’d been lucky to avoid the registry that time. 

Fenrir bit his tongue when it came to the image of Wizards and Witches. He also didn’t know if he did associate their actions with Dora’s of Xenophilius’ himself. At one point in time he would have, but things had become more complex as of late. “I know. She’s a good person. You both are.” He left it at that. He at least knew that was true. But still, whenever he found himself trusting these people or any Wizard at all, his brain ended up drifting back to that statue from the entrance hall of the ministry of magic. Wixkind crushing goblins and house elves and werewolves. How could it not be part of who they all were, when that was in the halls of their government building?

“Don’t worry about me, I have plenty of space at the house its just finishing it off. I have my bedroom largely finished anyway, I just can’t decide on the paint to use. Its a kind off though, thank you. Trust me I believe you. She’d make a good werewolf you know, temper like nothing else. I like to think I’m the reasonable level headed one in my family.”

“You needn’t worry; while I work for them, I don’t divulge my workings with them unless it is their business. This is my home, and therefore, none of their business. Plus, I’m fairly vocal at work in regards to my beliefs, it would be rather foolish for anyone to attempt to persuade me to not be of help to you. Not unless they wish for me to make their life very uncomfortable.” For such a small and rather fragile-looking woman, Dora was very capable of being a threat. It took nothing but the smallest wink of her eye for some people to find themselves having bad luck for months. 

She couldn’t help but smile fondly at how he spoke of his pack. Dora was delighted to see he was such a good caretaker for them, and she wished there were more like him in the world. “Oh, I hope they’re doing okay! If ever you need someone to help with their boundaries, I don’t mind a little travel at all. I’d be delighted to be of help, and I always love the excuse to go traveling.” Pandora was eager to view his drawings, her lips curling fondly over the scribbles as she nodded her head. “Hmm… this should be very easy for me to work with. Your detail is very much appreciated, Fenrir, you should do some work for Xenny’s magazine. He’s always going on about wanting help.”

Dora hummed to herself, noting down how many seeds she may need, as well as the kind of spell to work on to help them grow faster. Waiting a normal amount of time would be a bit tedious, but perhaps she could find mature ones that could be replanted to a new location. “Hm? Oh! Remus Lupin. He’s a darling, really. I remember when I first met him and I could hardly believe such a sweetheart was friends with Sirius and James. But, I’m glad he was, because he’s someone I couldn’t imagine life without.” To the point that she knew she wanted him in her own children's’ lives. Remus was always so quick to doubt himself, and yet, Dora believed he could do anything so long as he did so with confidence. 

“It seems I now have two darlings that are werewolves in my life. Oh! With the Holidays coming, you really must spend it with your pack! Really, Fenrir, it’s only right to do so. Holidays are for family, after all, and I won’t have you away from your family.”

Fenrir struggled to completely believe that someone who worked for the Ministry was completely trust worthy but he decided for now she had given him no reason to doubt her, quite the opposite, and he wasn’t trusting her with anything important anyway. Just a hedge. Surely that was allowed. One day, maybe, she could help with the boundary of his pack’s land. For now he nodded along with her suggestions not saying much until she complimented the detail in his diagram. 

“Thank you. I’m a bit of a builder myself, I know how useful those details can be. What kind of drawings does Xenny-” was Fenrir was supposed to call him that? Or was it a pet name? Fenrir had no idea and he felt awkward asking and he’d said it out loud now so he decided to just commit to it. “-require for his magazine? I’m afraid I haven’t read it before, is it something I should have heard of?” He hoped that she wouldn’t be offended at his lack of knowledge but he felt like she wasn’t the type to care much about reputation or her husband’s magazine being famous enough for Fenrir to have heard of it. 

When she mentioned Remus’ name Fenrir tried to act oblivious as if he’d never heard of such a person before. He suspected that if Remus discovered his friends was talking to him he’d start on some angry tirade and try to keep Fenrir away. But how to stop Pandora from mentioning his name? Not for the first time he wished he used a fake name for meetings like this. Too late now. And Pandora seemed like the type to talk. 

“Would you mind not mentioning we spoke to him?” He tried to think of any plausible reasoning, but failing that left it vague. “I’d rather not see him, and if he hears we’ve spoken he might know I’m in town.”

He smiled at the idea of Christmas at home. He had been looking forward to it for a long time. “Yes, I plan to spend it with them - but I have a lot of Christmas shopping to do first.”

His fingers folded closed and Fabian gave a little sigh, a little shrug of his shoulders. “Well if you haven’t got any sort of identification, I can hardly be expected to respect your authority, can I?” He finally glanced to the stranger with a smirk, and his hazel eyes did a double take. “For now-? And what if I refuse, and I continue levitating birds at my leisure?” Looking Fenrir up and down, Fabian half hoped that he would press on about it. Maybe he would escalate things into a fight, he was a big man, that would certainly liven things up a bit.

The fun and games were clearly coming to an end and it seemed to Fenrir like the other man was looking for a fight. Fine. Fenrir was sure that if he managed to disarm him and they fought with their fists he’d win, but he’d learnt that was usually easier said than done. Wizards held their wands close and knew how to use them, often better than Fenrir knew how to use his own. “I’m not looking for a fight here.” He almost rolled his eyes. He’d been like Fabian once, so eager to jump into the action.

“I’m just saying that you should respect beings other than yourself, respect nature. You don’t get to control that bird just because you feel like it. Its not a difficult thing to understand, is it now?” He spoke as if Fabian was a small child and he was explaining the world to him.

“It’s what I’ve been doing all my life.” he grinned, “Some folks don’t always like what you’ve got but you can’t let that stop you.” He’d been an object of hatred from different groups all his life, first for his race, then his blood. These people found it so much easier to hate than build. More fool them since Dirk wasn’t about to roll over; still there was little point in falling into that kind of mindset when all he wanted was to redo his kitchen. “Great, then we can get into it as soon as possible, I don’t have a hard deadline or anything but I don’t see the point in waiting about.” And the sooner he had a distraction of some kind the better.

“Did you redo a lot of this place yourself?” He wondered if it was like seeing a chubby chef, you could tell they were good cause they loved eating their own food. Maybe you could tell how good a labourer was at their job by taking a look at their home; in that case Fenrir had to be pretty good, the place was like a cottage from a magazine, or the finished parts were anyway.

“Oh thanks.” he cradled the cup in both hands and took a sip, laughing when the man talked about wizards, “Believe me, I get it. We can be the worst.” He spent enough time among goblins, merfolk, centaurs and even giants to be thankful for the escape from his fellow magic users. “I imagine nature’s a lot less judgey and demanding company.”      

Fenrir nodded along with Dirk. If they’d been sitting with drinks he would’ve clinked their glasses together in agreement but instead he settled for an approving snort of laughter. He didn’t delve more into the topic though, he had a feeling it would end up in a serious place that he wasn’t ready to face yet. Much better to focus on work. “Sure, once I draw up some plans I can get started. I’ll just be taking stuff out initially so we can see the space we’re working with and firm up plans.”

“I’ve done all of it - but don’t judge me yet. I’m not finished. I have big plans for this place.” He felt proud of the parts that were actually finished, but so much of the house still needed work, rotting wood and piles of dust. “The kitchen is done at least, first thing I did. Heart of the home.”

Fenrir wasn’t sure how to take Dirk’s declaration that wizards were the worst. While Fenrir agreed, he wasn’t sure it was in quite the same way. He kept his mouth shut for now, a wry smile spreading across it. “Yes, nature is much better company. Surprised to hear that from a Londoner,” he teased.

Minerva took a moment to regard the man before taking a small drag of her cigarette and turning her head to blow the smoke away, “My apologies. I was expecting more of my students; they’re been attempting to engage me to settle some childish dispute and I refuse to be involved.” It was as much her time off as it was the student’s after all and in a world gone mad one of her few small pleasures was reading the paper and judging the Quidditch scores.

“Knocking through a wall?” She questioned for a moment before the connection was made, “Ahh, you must be the gentleman who bought the Shack, I take it? The large house atop the hill on the outskirts of the village?” she added the description in case the man was unaware of the name; Minerva was one of the few who knew just how the building had acquired the title.

Students. So she was a new professor at Hogwarts, or at least new since he’d been there. He often forgot just how long ago that was now. He had since taken on his own professor-eqse roll in his pack, helping to raise and teach the younger ones. “I know that feeling.” He chuckled. “Best to let them settle it themselves, they’ll have to learn how to for themselves one day. Good to learn the skill of negotiation young, wish I had. I was always the biggest kid so I just got my way, but doesn’t exactly set you up for adult life does it?”

“I won’t have to do much, she tends to prove herself on her own.” Xenophilius felt odd, it was his home but he felt like he was the guest. The idea that this man thought he was in the same field as his wife made him chuckle. “Me? Oh, no, the Ministry would rather be dead than hire me, I’m afraid.” And it wasn’t even hyperbole to say so. He was actively shunned for his odd thoughts and up until recent only began socializing with people in the Order. Before then, the only real groups he had been familiar with were anyone that knew the Blacks–and not even the ones that were good.

“I make the Quibbler, so I write and publish the magazine for work. When it comes to magic, I believe Dora may be the more skilled of us. I think I’m more academic with my approach.” Which had lead his wife to insist he get lessons from Frank for defensive magic. But, that was something he agreed to only so Dora wouldn’t insist on giving him some sort of bodyguard. He preferred his alone time without someone snooping around his space. 

“My wife is more accepted among the community than myself. I still think she made a mistake in not keeping her last name–being a Lovegood doesn’t really bring perks save for whispers and rumors.” And the chance of there being a loose vine that once linked to a darker passage. “..Would you mind me asking why you need Dora’s help? You seem…very capable of fending off a threat. I know she is good with her work, but…I suppose I just keep my head in the sand in regards to how bad it can be out there.”

Fenrir was sure that the Ministry felt the same way about him and most other werewolves, and he chuckled at Xenophilius’ statement. Anyone who was an enemy of the ministry was a friend of his. He didn’t fully understand the reasoning though, he’d never heard of the Quibbler and had no idea why the Ministry wouldn’t want to be associated with him or it, but it felt rude to ask. He’d have to look out for it and pick up a copy if he could. He simply nodded along as Xenophilius spoke, not truly following. He supposed that was what happened when you checked out of Wizarding society for such a long time. He had no clue why anyone would decide being a Lovegood was a bad thing. “Wizards can be cruel to judge on such a thing as your last name.” It was all the help Fenrir could muster up. 

“Its not necessarily threats I’m trying to keep out. My land has a path through it that the Hogsmeade villagers have been using for years, but that’s rather dangerous considering who I am and what happens at the full moon. I’d rather just keep everyone except werewolves out. I don’t have much reason to let Wizards in either, especially not anyone from the Ministry, sniffing around looking to put Werewolves on that registry of theirs. There’s lots of reasons for me to keep everyone out.”

“Not as often as you would think, but perhaps we could consider the idea of once a week to be the case? I’d have to see what I can get from the store, but I’m almost certain that it would be of help.” She smiled, her fingers tracing over the drawings fondly. “It’s odd, Professor Dumbledore does as much as he can, but the Ministry seems to do their absolute best to block him from giving complete access to those like yourself and centaurs. I had a friend who was a centaur when I was in Hogwarts. He was a very dear friend of mine, but…” 

Dora sighed, frowning and disliking the idea of dwelling on such a negative memory. She preferred to always remember the good things rather than the bleak. “Well, I made sure he had a proper funeral and his cemetery plot is among the most beautiful garden near Hogwarts. I know he would have liked that, he was quite the Herbologist when alive. I have him to thank for my love of living things.” 

She shut the book, looking around her to grab a blank piece of paper to place on the table with a quill. “Do show me a bit of a diagram of what your home is like! I’d love to see it in person as well, if you wouldn’t mind. I know many wizards are unkind, but I do promise that I mean no harm to your ilk. I do hope you wouldn’t be opposed to my visiting, I know that I always look forward to learning more about werewolves so it will help me offer aid to one of my best friends. He’s a werewolf, you see. I cherish him, I’d do anything for him to be safe.” 

He could water the hedge once a week if it did everything she claimed it to do. He quite liked the idea of being out in his garden more anyway, and it’d give him more to chat to Daisy about. He’d never had much of a green thumb but perhaps it wasn’t too late to learn the basics. “It sounds like it would be of immense help, thank you.” Fenrir had genuinely enjoyed talking to Pandora and he found himself adding another wix to the list of those he liked. Since moving to the wizarding world he’d been surprised at the number of people he liked. He’d expected them all to be cold and cut off, but many of them reminded him of werewolves back home. 

“The Ministry are ran by imbeciles who insist on legislating on things that they simply don’t understand.” One of Fenrir’s rare but long and passionate rants about the Ministry was underway. “They stick their noses in on the most trivial of matters and yet seem to ignore the war brewing among their own kind under their noses. Making rules about werewolves and centaurs and whoever else when they don’t even have their own kind in check. At least we’re not fighting among ourselves, we’re united. Wizards certainly cannot say the same.” There had been rifts in his pack before, tussles for power as there were in any society but nothing like what was happening with the rise of Lord Voldemort. 

“I’m glad your friend got a suitable burial, many don’t.” He too did not like to dwell on those negative memories and was glad when she asked him to draw his house. He did his best to get the proportions right, dotting the edge of the land he owned, adding flourishes for the patches of foliage and scribbles for the trees, finally adding a rough rectangle as his cottage. It wasn’t art but it communicated what he needed it to.

“Oh, my pack don’t live here. I moved down here alone.” He chose not to expand on the reasons why. “Our charms to keep everyone out back home are very old and require a great many of us casting them frequently to keep them working. But they do work. These bushes will be just for around my house here, although seeing how they work it might be something to consider when I return back up to my family.”

He was curious when she mentioned that she knew another werewolf. As far as he knew there weren’t that many outside of his pack. He was sure there much be smaller groups dotted around the country though. “Oh? And what is your friends name?”

“Business?” Sinistra questioned, raising a delicate eyebrow. As if anything was more important than the job he was given. It wasn’t as if they asked much of him, he was simply used as an intimidation factor. Extra muscle, if needed. He was lucky that it wasn’t needed, that she had enough back up with Sylar and Evan at her side, but still. Things could have easily gone south, they could have needed him. He was given a direct order and he went against it. He needed to be reprimanded for his actions.

“And that couldn’t have waited until the morning?” Sinistra asked, taking a step closer to him. Fenrir may have been much larger than herself, but she wasn’t afraid of him. Not like this, anyway. Perhaps the evening of a full moon she’d be a little less likely to stand up to him in such a way. But right now, he was nothing more than an ordinary man, nothing she hadn’t dealt with before. “Surely your pack would have still been there afterwards.” She continued with a scoff. His excuse wasn’t good enough, it was an obvious lie and she wasn’t buying any of it. “You were given an order, Greyback, and you’re to obey orders like the good little mutt you are. Otherwise you and your pack might not be around much longer.”

Fenrir fought the urge to take a step back when she moved towards him. He had no doubt that she was much better with her wand than he was. The only thing that made him feel better about the situation was that if the Dark Lord wanted him dead, he’d be dead already. This was a warning. He’d have to learn to step into line. 

“I don’t have the mark like the rest of you. I cannot be summoned at will.” It wasn’t exactly an answer to her question because he didn’t want one. He hadn’t gone because he had things he’d rather be doing and he honestly thought no one would care that he was missing. Clearly loyalty was important to these people though and he was quickly learning he needed to at least appear completely loyal.

The word mutt made him want to kill her on the spot, and when he was younger he was sure he would’ve done just that, but he showed self restraint. More than that, he bowed his head and showed submission to this evil woman. “I understand.” 

@greyback-fenrir​ 

“What–” Xenophilius wasn’t quite sure what Dora was going on about, but she seemed to be in one of her moods. It was almost impossible to get her to change her mind once she became work oriented, and he saw the glint in her eyes that said he wasn’t going to get far if he tried to contain her. “I just need you to keep him company, he’s a lovely man! His name is Fenrir, and he’s a werewolf, you know, like Remus. He’s a sweetie, just like a puppy.” She giggled, patting his shoulder to assure him before pecking his lips with a kiss.

“Just keep him company and I will be back!” She was already out the door, which meant that the answer she was hinting towards was agreement. “Yes, dear.” Xenophilius sighed out, almost out of pure reflex as he saw a cup of tea already make its way into his hand. Well, she did know him well enough to assure his stress was under control. And comparing the man to Remus meant she was aiming for him to be as fond of this stranger as he was of the former. 

“Ah–” He peered into the room, seeing the large man and immediately wondering if the term ‘puppy’ was appropriate. Remus is the size of this man’s pinky. He walked in none the less, putting his cup down and offering a meek wave of his hand. “Right, hello. Dora gave me a rather quick explanation but it’d be rude to leave a guest alone. I’m Xenophilius, I apologize if you weren’t expecting her to be so eager–it’s hard to stop Dora once she’s set her mind to something.”

Dora was like a whirlwind, and Fenrir had no choice but to sit and wait for it to be over. In a moment she was gone and replaced by a man, who from her explanation seemed to be her husband. He didn’t seem as enthusiastic about entertaining him, but Fenrir wouldn’t hold that against him. Fenrir drank awkwardly from his tea cup, giving a brief nod as a greeting. He didn’t want to be rude, he just wasn’t sure what to say. He’d come here for a protective charm and been swept up into these people’s lives. 

“Fenrir.” He said, reaching out a hand to shake when Xenophilius introduced himself. Fenrir wished he had the light charm he had back home, where is was comfortable and happy. In the wizarding world it rarely shone through, he felt so awkward and on the outskirts so much of the time. He at least gave the other man a smile, chucking at what he said. “Yes, I gathered that. She’d very driven. Good at her job - or at least that’s what I’ve been told. I’ll see for myself when she returns. What is it that you do Xenophilius. Same line of work as your wife?”

Fabian gave the stranger a glance before continuing as he had been with a smirk. “It got in my way while I was bored,” he gave a little shrug of his shoulders, “it’s only a levitation spell, it’s not as if i’m doing anything to it- And at any rate, it’s a bird. What are you, some sort of bird’s rights activist? Are you on duty? Have you got a badge?” His free hand blindly reached out, palm open, for the badge.

Typical wizard. Didn’t care about any other living thing. Thought of themselves as superior. He should’ve expected the challenge but when he received it Fenrir attempted to appear intimidating, as he did at the first sign of any conflict, raising himself to his full height. It didn’t quite have the intended effect when Fabian was still look at the bird. “Yes. I’m a self appointed bird auror. No badge I’m afraid - just asking nicely for now.”

“At least there is a safe place for them, I hate when there is no care taken to everyone in the community. It took Xenophilius a year for them to allow him to put a barrier to protect the pixies–they may be rather devious but they are still living creatures all the same. Same with Centaurs, though, I can’t even imagine why there is an issue with permitting them to teach.” Pandora was often frustrated with the closed minds of those around her. And they were often the ones that were in charge that had the least care for those that weren’t exactly like themselves. 

“I know of some plants that can be of use for you and your kin. A spell can often backfire or even lose it’s power over time, and I’d hate for you to be in danger due to such circumstances.” She flipped a few pages and came across one that had a second set of writings that weren’t her own. Her husband had mentioned the use of plants as a helpful aid and deterrent, stating that he wanted some bushes instead of a fence to protect their yard. “Hah, right– he wrote it here for me.”

Pandora smiled, showing the page to the man without hesitation. “If you live among nature, then they will blend in with the surroundings very well. They tend to drop seeds often, and will therefore always grow new and fresh vines for help. The thorns are a good addition and they would part away to leave room for you and your pack to enter and leave as you wish.” She pointed to the many types that Xenophilius had drawn, her own eyes admiring the artwork before she tapped an idle finger against her temple. 

“….Hm, I believe I know a place in Diagon Alley that sells such a seed to plant around your property. They would also be rather sentient, and catch those that are a threat. Are you able to at least water them from time to time? If not, I can offer something else to help.” 

Fenrir didn’t know much about any magic creatures other than werewolves. He’d had limited enough contact with wizards, he’d hardly had the chance to meet a centaur or a giant or a vampire. He’d never given them that much thought. Other than goblins who had fought several wars with humans, he assumed the rest of them were just happy to along with the current status quo. Part of his belief that werewolves would and should eventually take control of the ministry was based in the fact that they were uniquely oppressed, but Pandora’s comment on centaurs drew that into question. “Oh? I hope they’ve been fighting back on that. You’d think Dumbledore would know better.” Despite everything Fenrir did have some respect for Dumbledore, who had accepted him and every other werewolf in his pack into Hogwarts willingly. Being a student and being a professor were two very different things though and he wondered where Dumbledore stood on that particular issue. 

A plant seemed like an unusual way of protecting his property but he couldn’t think of any reason not to and so he allowed her to keep talking, rifling through her book. “Yes, I live on the outskirts of Hogsmeade so I believe they would blend in.” They’d be nicer to look at too than a fence. He’d already caused a stir among villagers by blocking off his land, perhaps if at least the blockage was attractive they would complain less... even if the hedge did have thorns and vines that would catch them from entering. 

He admired the art work, nodding at her suggestion, more convinced by the minutes. Watering the hedge did seem like an onerous task of it were to cover the entire boundary of his property. “How often would it need watering?” Talking of the plant made him think of Daisy and he wondered if she knew of it - maybe he’d mention it next time they spoke, she might have some guidance on how to look after the thing.