let them eat cake --- ♚

rose’s face brightened at wren’s encouragement, before it quickly fell. it was strange to pity a pureblood who, by all accounts, lived a rather charmed life, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. it had only been a few years ago when the tragic news of the volants had come to hogwarts. she hadn’t known them, necessarily, but she had been saddened to hear that anyone would be a little more alone in the world. as much as they sometimes were more trouble than they were worth, she couldn’t imagine facing the world without hugo and her cousins. 

she looked around, as if to make sure no one was listening, before she leaned in. her voice low, she bobbed her head up and down in agreement, “you’re right, wren. times are awful. you couldn’t even imagine. molly’s- she’s good, but she’s been better. i just wish-”

her voice cracked a little, before she changed the subject abruptly, “i know it’s less fun, but maybe we should get back to runes. you’re really easy to talk to, wren, but it’s been really hard for all of us recently. and i don’t think it’d be fair of me to impress that upon you.“

‘you’re really easy to talk to, wren.’ it was all he could do not to laugh in her face. was that all it took to get in rose weasley’s good books---a pretty face and a a bit of false humility? no wonder these idiots were losing the war. but he gave rose a soft smile instead, “ah, i don’t mind, rosie. you’re not so bad yourself----it’s nice to have someone other than o who i can have a real conversation with.” maybe he was laying it on too thick---then again, it’s not like rose would notice, so wrapped up in making poor, sad, lonely wren volant her latest pet project.

“runes, runes, okay---but you know, i think my marks have gotten loads better since you started tutoring me,” true, but inconsequential; it’s not as though he was continuing on with this charade for the sake of his marks, “so if you need a day off from helping me pass NEWTs, i think we can fit that in, considering.”

ideology was easy, especially in a rather unshaped mind like theo’s. it was simple enough to understand the doctrine and make a commitment to that theory - but people? the true actors of it all? he’d never prepared himself for the empathy he’d feel for them, nor did he think much of it while making connections at school. he didn’t think much of it when he fell for that potter girl as well. it was long ago, yes, but it was impossible to strip the memories of her out of all emotion. damn his stupid head, always overthinking, when he had no business thinking at all.

the laughter felt like a million curses, dismissing the war inside his head. maybe that was for the better. maybe he should embrace that carelessness, use it to push himself towards the next mission. but he knew. the arm around his shoulders brought him comfort, but also anger. it was familiar, and a part of the family that group was meant to represent, but that safety always came with a price he wasn’t always eager to pay. wren knew, and if he’d played the game right, so would he. would theo have done anything differently, had he known? treason? join them? off himself to not have to worry about any of that? theodore put his arm behind the other’s back, regaining some posture, catching his breath at last. “ fine, i’ll stop whining, let’s go. ” their eyes were on him, so he might as well give into the easy option, and made damn sure that he acted accordingly to his role, let the entire world know he was not, in any way, struggling with the recent events. so, he gave in to that sense of safety, of belonging. wide eyed was better than teary eyed, he supposed - time to learn some new tricks.“ so, which of them? i personally lost count of them all. ”

“fine, i’ll stop whining,” wren imitated, shaking his head, “lighten up, mate.” he steered theo along down the corridor, wanting to get away from prying eyes and ears. secrets were currency amongst the student death eaters---you never really wanted to give anyone the opportunity to have anything to use against you, wren knew. but he did like theo, for all he lacked in being as---outgoing, as wren himself was; and he didn’t want him to fall prey to something as silly as indecision---or worse, a conscience---in the middle of a war.

“any, really----s’there really any different from one to another? i guess the only one unavailable is miss lily potter herself, but i have a feeling she’s being entertained just fine, don’t you think?” wren said, a wide grin hiding just how carefully he was watching theo to gauge his reaction. 

w/ @wrenvolant when: during a tutoring session

“—– and then lucy– you wouldn’t believe what she did next. i love her bunches, but, merlin, i really doubt that she has half a brain sometimes. i just hope it’s not genetic. not that i’m at risk, mind you, but think of the children! can you imagine her changing a wet nap and then the diaper just setting itself on fire? oh, i get chills down my spine just thinking about it. i’m just so thankful there are so many of us in hogwarts right now and that, at the very least, she has molly. you’ve met molly, right?”

rose paused to look at wren, before catching sight of a nearby clock. 

“oh my– just look at the time,” rose shot wren an apologetic look and picked up her quill, “i’ve totally wasted the first fifteen minutes of this tutoring session. i am so sorry. we’ll get right back to work.”

Over the years Wren had perfected the art of allowing his attention to drift, while maintaining the perfect ‘of course I’m listening’ expression. There were times when he was sure this tutoring session was some sort of punishment on Longbottom’s part---and the Order said his side was sadistic. Still, for someone so smart, Rose was incredibly easy to beguile; even after all the shit he’d pulled, and to her family members no less, all it took was a bit of charm for her to believe the best in him.

Even tuned out, some part of his mind absorbed what she was saying, or at least the names she’d mentioned. Lucy---vapid, Rose knew that too right. And Molly? Vaguely, he recalled Gemma Gamp’s most recent nickname for her, after the attack on Diagon in January; ‘the  honorary squib of the Weasley family’.

“No worries,” He gave her a grin, sitting up in his seat, “Listening to your stories is a sight better than working on Runes. I don’t have any siblings,” He gave pause here, a solemn, almost wistful tone to his voice, “So I guess I’ve got to live vicariously through you to get the experience.” As if he’d want anyone vying for any share of the fortune his family left behind. Terrible. “But, uh, yeah, I know Molly. She doing any better after the attack?” Who the hell cared? “Awful shit going on.”

@wrenvolant

he’d suspected it all the previous night, once people began leaving and her family looked alarmed. he’d said nothing, simply let the anxiety run rampant in his head, finished another drink to drown it out, fell asleep on the common room floor along with a handful of others. it was just so much easier than the truth that had been dropped in that meeting. if he hadn’t questioned it all previously, it might have just broken all of his defenses. his reaction would have been treacherous, he knew it. instead, he’d nodded, silently, biting his tongue until he tasted the blood, pressing his fingernails against his palms until it stung. it’s her fault. it’s her stupid choices and her hero complex. turns out they didn’t need to graduate to be fully in the war - he should have already realised that, but the thought hit him hard. they were at war. the time had come, he’d joined the revolution already, they were in the middle of act two. stupid, thinking they’d been playing soldiers during lunch break. wren was at the end of the corridor, he saw while leaving the room. had he noticed his silence? full of treason and questions. perhaps others had as well. merlin, it was impossible to shake the feeling of surveillance - every step he took was an evaluation. he was everyone’s supervisor, and everyone was his. “ hold up, ” despite being the same age, theodore often looked up to wren for directions, mimicking his actions, learning from his chaos - burke quickening his steps to reach the more confident one looked like a younger mess asking his mentor for wisdom. perhaps he wanted that. or just a shakedown of commitment. anything that would take him out of his morally conflicted stupor. “ did you know? like, before this. did you? ”

Wren was entirely at ease as the meeting was dismissed, all relaxed posture and easy grins as he made his way from the room, but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice the nervous tension rolling off of others in waves. He supposed he understood; his loyalty was beyond questioning, thanks to Odilia, but even the weakest links among them had to realize that in this moment, everyone’s eyes were on everyone else, looking for even one sign of hesitance---whether to exploit or find commiseration, he wasn’t sure.

Either way, he was nearing the end of the corridor when he heard Theo’s voice, and slowed for the other boy. Theo was a great lesson in what Odilia and her little clique already knew; it was immensely satisfying to have someone look up to you as an example. And while Theo was perhaps not as daring as Wren might want in a mate, given proper guidance he had potential.

He laughed at Theo’s question, waving it off dismissively, “Don’t be jealous, Theo. Make yourself useful and maybe you’ll be let in on a few secrets, too.” Throwing an arm around the other’s shoulder he continued, “Nevermind all that. This calls for a celebration. O’s gonna be doing her leader thing for a while yet; shall we crack open a bottle of Ogden’s, maybe go offer our condolences to a Weasley or two?”

when: feburary 26th, 2024; 2 am where: empty rows of the quidditch pitch who: eliza & OPEN

Gone. Gone. Gone. G o n e. 

The word was repeating in her head, coming to a volume that made her ears nearly bleed. Every time she thought she had gotten the hyperventilation and shaking under control, the word came back with a vengeance. Lily - their leader, lionheart incarnate, fierce and rearing for a fight, one of the few children of the man who was their savior, Eliza’s savior - was fucking gone, probably being tortured or worse by a threat was was becoming more and more lethal with each passing day. It seemed that they were fighting a war that was impossible to win; every time victory was close in their grasp, something like this happened. Lily was gone - taken - and it seemed like they were moving back in time, to a time where registries and branding was normal and expected. It made her sick, fed that burning coals in her stomach that made her want to fucking scream and rage and destroy anyone in her path. It fucking terrified her - a feeling that she would never, NEVER, say out loud. She was the strong one, the one someone could lean on, the one who would promise to beat the shit out of anyone who hurt you, the one who would protect you until her last breath. But she didn’t know how to fight this fight and she sure as hell didn’t know how to fucking win.

Tears started to prick at her eyes, the lump in her throat becoming to thick for her to swallow down. She bit her lip until she tasted blood, silent sobs wracking her body with each passing moment. She stared up at the sky, her vision blurring as she tried to tell the stars apart, tried to concentrate on something - anything - to make herself stop crying. Once she allowed herself to let go, let the tears flow freely, she couldn’t stop. And she had to stop, she had to pull herself together - for her friends. She could never make herself correct her behavior for her own sake so she had to focus on others. She slowed her breathing only for it quicken when she heard oncoming footsteps. 

Her position on the bleachers made her difficult to spot, but someone could have easily seen the broken bottle of Firewhiskey a few meters to her left. She had brought it out to drink but after the first round of panic attacks, she had thrown it away from her - needing to see something break. Breaking the bottle was a right sight better than her idea of finding anyone who could have had ties to the Death Eaters and beating the shit out of them. She wiped her eyes, praying that the newcomer wouldn’t spot the nail marks in her palms, or the blood coming from her lips, or the red in her eyes. Her knuckles turned white as she held her wand tightly, attempting to make out the figure coming her way. She raised her chin in defiance, fully expecting a fight. “Nice night, huh?” She started, her voice even as she stepped down to another bleacher. Her wand was pointed resolutely at the figure, waiting for them to make the first move. 

Wren wasn’t usually one for authority, but when the Headmistress had offered him the praeposter position, the idea of being able able to punish wrongdoers (or more accurately, people he disliked or wanted to piss off) sweetened the idea just enough for him to say yes. Authority could be a real bitch sometimes, but when it was on your side, and granted you power to abuse? Wren certainly couldn’t complain.

He hadn’t really expected to find anyone at the pitch at 2 AM---because, really, haven’t these plebeians learned what happens to people who are out of bounds and not in the administrations’ favor?---yet the insipid always managed to surprise him.

“Oh, put the wand down, Dursley, stop embarrassing yourself. We both know you’re about as threatening as a flobberworm.” Wren kicked at the broken firewhiskey bottle, grimacing, “Cheap liquor, too? For fuck’s sake, you’re almost too pathetic to give detention. Almost.” He twirled his own wand  between his fingers, tone conversational, “Professors are really cracking down on this curfew nonsense, you know. Little girls going missing, s’got everyone in a tizzy, can’t be outside of your dorm, you kn---Oh! Fuck, right, Lily Potter’s your---something or other, isn’t she?” Wren laughed, “Don’t answer---I don’t actually care. Just wobble your way down the bleachers and get back to your dorm, yeah?”

where: death eaters’ general meeting (where the main lot just found out abt lily) when: sunday, february 25th who: open to student de

Genie was thriving. She’d been tickled pink about the whole thing—-what an excellent plan of Gemma’s, honestly, but who was surprised?—-and had greatly enjoyed being able to cause havoc and run interference last night against those headless chickens that called themselves MA members—-honestly, Genie thought scornfully, McGonagall had been a senile old bat but even she knew how to run an organisation better than these righteous walking temper tantrums—-but she was especially interested in this particular moment: now that the whole group had been informed, Genie’s eyes were roving the amassed crowd, scanning for reactions. Enthusiasm, weakness, discomfort—-anything, because as Wes had always taught her, every little thing you caught was another thing to be able to use and weaponise.

“So,” she said casually, sidling up to someone and flicking two fingers at the person nearest them to scatter so Genie could take their spot, “Who do you think’s going to burst into tears first? My bet’s on the halfbreed—-either, really, they’re practically interchangeable at this point, so desperate, poor things—-though I guess it’s not really their fault that they can’t control their impulses, what with them being less… civilised than us.”

“Ah, the veela twins are easy marks, Genie. I don’t make losing bets, but I’m hoping for something a bit more dramatic---maybe Albus Potter breaking down in Potions? No dad, sister or girlfriend around to comfort him, yeah? Tragic, for people who need that kind of shit.” Wren tore his eyes away from where Odilia and Gemma were speaking, turning to the other third of their little group, “You think next time someone gets snatched we could add Louis Weasley to the list? My wardrobe is getting a bit full and I’d like the extra space. You know, if we’re being open to suggestions.”

where: diagon alley when: january 5th, 2024 who: @wrenvolant​

Roxanne froze for a moment — there was a burst of light in the corner of her eye, and when her head snapped in it’s direction, she saw fire licking at familiar purple and orange — and then ran. Past the masked figure she’d attempted to spar with, pushing him out of the way, her heart in her throat. No, no, no, no, no. She tried to see if she could spot her dad, or either of the Freds, or Isa, or bleeding someone, but saw no one, only bodies to push through, her mind focused on reaching the fire and nothing else.

And then she felt the heat of fire on her skin and locked teary eyes with the back of a masked figure and she ran, faster, and crashed into him, hoping to tackle him, or throw him off balance at the least. Roxanne drew her wand, screamed, “STOP IT, stop it you fucking arsehole,” and wished she didn’t sound so desperate. 

“Oh, have you come to see the show?” Wren delighted in hearing the desperate, the rage in Roxanne’s screams, jostled as he was by her. He reached out, hand closing around her wrist and twisting it backward, “Rough luck that there’s just so much flammable shit in that hovel you all call a shop, right?” They both struggled against one another, until finally he laughed, “I don’t know why you’re bothering with me----when you should be more worried that there are people still trapped inside. We didn’t check, you know.”

when: jan 5th 2024; 10:40am where: diagon alley who: @wrenvolant

Later, Katya would think of who she was stepping in front of, who she was intervening in the attack of, but in the moment, all she could think about — all she could see — was the masked figure about to attack someone lying on the ground — trembling, moaning — and then she was there, casting a protego and jumping between them. Seeker at heart, all speed and instinct and tactics, and you jump straight in anyway — well, she’d always had Oliver’s mouthiness even as she’d had Viktor’s temperament, so she couldn’t be too surprised. Dropping the protego now that she was between them, she said, with a calmness she didn’t feel, “Attacking a defenceless girl? You should be ashamed of yourself,” even as she tensed for a retaliatory spell for her interruption.

“A defenseless girl? That’s a bit anti-feminist of you, isn’t it? Equality of the sexes, n’all that? Not my fault she’s barely a witch.” Wren gave a dark chuckle, before sending two jinxes in quick succession---a blood-boiling hex at the prone figure still on the ground, and a bone-crushing hex at their would-be savior. “Minerva McGonagall would be ash----oh, wait, she’s not really around anymore, is she? My mistake.”

when:  17 february, 2024 where:  hogsmeade village who:  open

     hogsmeade visits used to be a major highlight for louis.  he had trouble taking time to relax and chill out, and those trips were like a very polite way of kicking him out of the common room and into the sunlight, away from the textbooks and the parchment.  but it was different now.  everything this year was different.  the illicit butterbeer didn’t taste as good, the cauldron cakes weighed heavily in his coat pocket, and even outside of the castle, louis felt the need to constantly look over his shoulder.  “i can’t get over the feeling that this is a trap,”  he finally admitted quietly.  as he opened a chocolate frog  ( another bertie bott card )  and took a bite, he elaborated:  “like, we’re gonna go back up to the castle and fun is going to be outlawed.”

“I’ve been having loads of fun this year, Weasley, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wren had heard the other boy’s complaint from behind him, and as he was waiting for Odilia to finish up---wherever she’d gotten to with her gals, he was bored, “But you’re ah, you know, welcome not to go back to the castle. Don’t think anyone would really notice. Then, I could turn your part of the dorm into a home gym. Perfect.”

Elation. That’s what he was feeling, wasn’t it? The same giddiness he’d felt at the punchline of his father’s favorite joke─ how is a niffler like a Sunday roast?─ as dozens of the thieving beasts poured from smoking dams. Bubbles rising to the surface of his skin, scratching to escape. Forgetting to breath. Yeah, that.

It was a bit of the same thing. How is a niffler like a Sunday roast? How is a niffler like a weasel?

You smoke them.

“ Reckon they’ve got the blue fireworks that look like a coiled occamy? ” Mads hummed at his companions. The wind was in his veins, tugging towards his wand. It hesitated and he wondered, for a moment, if it’d do a perfect impersonation of a hose to spite him.

A single massive ball of fire spat out the tip and hurled itself towards the storefront.

“ My bad! ” he called cheerfully to the people his fireball hit on its journey. One of them was well on fire.

Cas imagined – for a short moment – the reactions those wretched Weasleys when they saw their pride & joy ablaze. It made him almost happier than the sight of the first bursts of fire licking at the store. He would pay good money to see them weep and rage and look at the charcoal remains of this … well, he barely wanted to call it a store. 

He twirled his wand between his fingers before letting a rope-like string of fire leave the tip of it, hitting the upper store windows, licking at the orange and purple and he laughed an almost giddy laugh and wondered out loud, “Who decided on this horrific colour scheme?” before aiming once again, now through the broken windows. 

Head turned to Mads for a second, considering his words. “It’s exactly what a day like this needs — a wonderful firework show at the end of it all. We’re giving the people what they want!”

Caleb focused carefully on the smoke perched behind his ear, plucking it gently between his index and middle fingers and placing it to his mouth. Glass shards skittered like hailstones around his feet as the windows exploded from the heat, the light of the fire set them glittering while he retrieved his wand from its holster. He muttered a small lighting charm, a tiny flame springing to life as he took a deep inhale, the perks of evading a full mask. 

The crowing of his boys filled the air amongst the screams. He was a fixed point amidst the chaos, Mads’ ever unpredictable wand hurling a characteristically massive and careening ball of flame after Wren’s, a whip of it curling then from Cas. 

Letting air replace the smoke in his lungs and filling his mouth from his hip flask he stepped forward, closer and closer still till he felt the heat become unbearable. He raised his wand and a huge cloud of flame poured upward from his mouth as the alcohol sprayed through the spell he’d readied, one ridiculous striped arm catching as the fire engulfed it. 

“Waste of a good vintage, really.” He drawled as loudly as he could manage, taking long strides backward into formation. 

“Oy---hope you brought enough to share,” Wren motioned to Caleb and  his flask, laughing in delight at the excessive nature of his friends’ attacks. He twirled his hand between his fingers, eyes narrowing at a figure approaching Mads from behind. He shot off a quick bone breaking hex, watching the attacker drop to the ground with satisfaction, “Interrupting our fun---some people have no fucking manners, do they?”

The exterior of the shop was now almost fully ablaze, and Wren figured it’d only be a matter of time before whatever explosives were in the shop helped them finish the job. Still-----his wand arced downward and a powerful blasting hex was sent towards the shop, impacting with the large, Weasley-esque figure that graced the ahead above the entrance. A loud crack sounded as the head split from the---quite frankly, gaudy----puppet’s body, and people underfoot scurried to get out of the way as it crashed to the street in front of the shop.  Wren looked on, bemused, at one unhappy wix whose leg appeared to be pinned under the head.

“Well really----that’s just shit luck, isn’t it?”

The scene devolved quickly into madness; cries and confusion filling the air, and Wren gave a sideways grin to his friends as they spelled their way to their goal. The extended Weasley and Potter families were the most obvious targets, and Wren wouldn’t begrudge his peers who went after them, wands blazing; but his father always said there was more than one way to skin a Kneazle, and there were other ways to wound the Order---particularly, strike at their morale.

And if Wren got to blast that ghastly storefront off the face of the earth while he was at it, all the better.

"Time to put on a show, yeah?” He called to the masked figures standing with him, wand raised. Fire erupted from the tip, coiling in the air as it gathered strength and mass before hurtling through the air to its target----the front windows of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes shattering upon impact, flames licking at the frames and quickly climbing as a new wave of startled screams rang out.

“There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.” 

LUCIEN LAVISCOUNT? No, that’s actually WREN VOLANT. A SEVENTH YEAR student, this GRYFFINDOR student is sided with THE DEATH EATERS. HE identifies as a CIS-MAN and is a PUREBLOOD who is known to be CARELESS, UNPRINCIPLED, and ROWDY but also CHARISMATIC, HUMOROUS, and SPIRITED. { ARIELLE, TWENTY-EIGHT, PST, SHE/HER } 

( AT A GLANCE )

wren adrien volant. seventeen. taurus. gryffindor. entp. chaotic neutral. vice: gluttony, virtue: charity. wand: acacia, phoenix feather, 12 inches, springy. diamond cuff links. an easy smile hiding a wicked temper and moral apathy. firewhiskey - always top shelf. excessive and expensive taste. laughter; at someone else’s expense. an appetite for destruction.