#raiserofwolves

Although the war had raged for a year, Mary still found herself looking for different angles on stories. Unlike some other journalist (side eyeing you, Rita Skeeter) Mary truly tried to publish unbiased reports that provided information instead of rumors--which, of course, earned her both praise and scorn, and sometimes both combined into a backhanded compliment. 

Mary didn’t doubt that she would catch a lot of flack for her newest story. With all of the talk of elitism and species bias, Mary’s interest in other species’ viewpoints had spiked. Unlike other members in the wizarding community, Mary didn’t mind nonhumans; why should she? If the Dark Lord had his way, she would soon find herself on the dangerous side of prejudice. Mary wanted to tell the truth, no matter how unpopular. 

In that vein, she had arranged for several interviews with nonhumans; goblins, freed house elves, and even a vampire named Louis. Now, she was closing in on her last interview: a self-proclaimed werewolf. With such a stigma around lycanthropy, Mary had been surprised that any werewolf would voluntarily sit down and tell their experience. Even more surprisingly, her interviewee had agreed to allow the Prophet to publish his real name. The werewolf’s only request had been that Mary meet him in a small park outside of wizarding London, which she had readily accepted. This was an important interview, after all, concerning an even tougher subject; she would want to make the interviewee as comfortable as possible

However, when Gerard Cullen had stumbled up the path, a flask in his hand at 3:32 in the afternoon, Mary had begun to rethink her decision. She sat on the edge of the bench, crossing her feet at her ankles and whirling her quill as she studied the man that sat next to her. The werewolf leaned back easily in the bench, stretching out long limbs and looping his hands behind his head as a support. “What can I say? Being a werewolf is great,” Gerard said, grinning lazily. Golden locks fell over his bright blue eyes, and he flicked the strands out of the way so he could study Mary better. 

“Can you give me a little more details? Tell me why you think that being a werewolf is so desirable?” Mary asked, meeting his gaze. “I want our readers to understand.” 

Gerard shrugged. “It’s whatever, I guess.  Hey are you going to take my picture for the Prophet?”

Mary blinked, and her brow creased in confusion. “Sorry, no. I want to protect you in case this doesn’t go the right way.” Gerard scowled at Mary’s comment, and shook his head. 

“Listen, I’m doing you a favor. You should be grateful.”

Her intuition flared, and Mary matched Gerard’s scowl with her own. “I am. But you’ve got to give me a little bit of info here. You act like you’re hiding something.”

The man cringed and dropped his gaze, trying to hide the truth, but Mary caught the expression in his eyes. “You are hiding something.” She didn’t realize it, but her voice rose and she found herself standing and glaring down at Gerard. Something’s definitely wrong. Footsteps echoed on the path, but Mary didn’t bother to look up, keeping her attention locked on the impostor.

It’s not a pile of dead cats, I know, but it’s better. This is what you are supposed to feed your dog. Make sure he gets some at least once a day, and for the love of everything you believe in don’t let him eat it all at once. When it runs out perhaps you can brave the terrifying prospect of a shop and go buy him more. You have about 5 months to work your way up to it. He doesn’t need much. And he doesn’t need whatever crap you feed yourself. That’s bad enough for you, worse for a dog.

- Fen

P.S. You, me, and Evan need to go hunting at some point.

Dog-Humper,

At least I might find some use in a pile of dead cats. Are you telling me that I’m supposed to actually feed my dog? Buy food specifically for him? I can’t eat this shit, it’s no use to me.

But since I’m stuck with it I guess I’ll give it to him while it lasts. I’m not an idiot, of course I wouldn’t feed it to him all at once, but if he gets into it while I’m out you can’t blame it on me. I also make no promises to step into a market to get more. I barely do that for myself, not going to start for a dog. He’s been surviving on what I feed him thus far.

-Walden

The fresh air that filled the young woman's lungs felt good, and felt very needed. This was the first time in years that Alecto felt like she could breathe; sure, she was able to get away from him while she was in Hogwarts, but he still always knew where she was, could ruin her already fragile mental state with just one letter and keep her in check and under his thumb, but out here?

Out here Alecto felt like she was free. Master Carrow didn't have the faintest idea of where she was because she'd been so careful with who she'd told about where she was going. Barty vaguely knew where she was, though not the exact location and outside of Fenrir and the pups, he was the only link to where she was and she didn't expect her father would even consider that the Crouch boy knew where she was. 

The girl still felt bad about not telling Amycus where she was - the most he'd gotten so far was a letter from her letting him know that she was safe and that she was with friends. And she would have liked to say that for the first time in years she wasn't worried, but... she still was. She knew that the moment Master Carrow discovered she was missing that he'd go to see Amycus and question him, but she had waited long enough to send him her first letter that he really wouldn't know anything during that questioning, and anything after - well, Alecto had left it quite vague on purpose. 

She knew that the moment she told her brother where she was he'd come to her, and the chance that their father was still watching Amycus was too high. The man knew her well, well enough to know that she wouldn't be able to stop herself from sending her brother a letter assuring him of her safety.