Disclaimer: Le sigh… I sadly am not the owner of HP. Story of my life… Nor do I own Teenagers by My Chemical Romance.
Okay, this is for HorcruxesAndHallows. And this is a revamp, I like this version better!
Snatchers unite!
It was a dreary day, as all days were nowadays. Grey clouds were rolling in above them, saying nothing good was bound to happen in the near (or far) future. There was no silver lining for most, but that was because they didn't squint hard enough.
All of the new recruits were standing in front of the werewolf; all eager, all ready, wanting and wishing to learn more. All brainwashed morons, in Scabior's opinion, he was just here for the money.
He was an easy man to understand, most days that is. Whoever was the highest bidder, they received his loyalty. He was an unpredictable source because of this. Oh, his loyalty could still be won by a certain damsel (said damsel hadn't stolen his heart yet, for said damsel hadn't popped into existence yet) or by a friend, only Scabior's single friend had died years prior, leaving him alone.
Regulus had disappeared in their sixth year, and Scabior somehow just knew the boy was dead. Because Reg wouldn't just up and leave without saying goodbye.
Fenrir might be an awkward friend, somewhere in the far future, Scabior thought, but only if this side won (which he still doubted, as has been stated, he was just here for the money) and he needed to make a social stand, which was where Fenrir, as Voldemort's lapdog, would come in handy.
He'd be a lapdog's wingman, true, but if it all worked out as he planned, he himself would be Voldemort's ally.
Or Potters, whoever won this silly war.
Scabior wasn't fooled, Fenrir would have a high standing one day, mostly due to his lycanthropy and bloodthirsty nature that made sure the majority of the werewolves were in Voldemort's pocket.
And that was a disturbing image to have, a load of werewolves slipping out of his pocket one by one, and later sneaking back with lunches and kills and dinners and… who knows what that apple tree was for. Scabior certainly had no lack of imagination.
They were waiting for… something. Fenrir told the poor guy nothing. Nada. Zip. And he would like to behead the man if he wasn't a werewolf, which would not only make a smudge on his future social standing, but would most likely ascertain he was dead at the end of what he was sure would be a legendary, but brief, battle. The black-haired man, with a bright red streak in his hair, would lose, but not before driving an axe into the shoulder of his battle partner.
As grudging as it was, Scabior accepted their fate. Fenrir was their leader and he was drilling them. He had to pretend that he admired the creature, that he was awed by the disgusting nature and that he was thrilled everytime the thing laid a hand on his arm.
"I'm gonna filth up your looks, dirty you all up, it's good to be able to disguise oneself if one would like to catch, let's say, a whole horde of people instead of one at a time," Fenrir was saying, utterly surprising Scabior, he'd always thought Fenrir was an illiterate buffoon, "With all the lies in the books, I don't know how in the name of everything dirty you even got this far!" Scabior had absolutely no idea how this contributed to the current situation, but he shrugged his shoulders mentally, "To make a miscreant out of you, I will be taking all of these lies that has been planted in your brains, via - "Scabior's mouth nearly dropped open, Fenrir knew what 'via' meant! " – exercises, classes that will be taught by me and, of course, we'll be practicing our curses on several innocent animals and some of the Dark Lord's prisoners."
Scabior wanted to retch and empty his stomach's contents, but he managed to swallow the bile that had risen up his throat down, it burned his throat and made his eye water.
"You need to train hard, because they sleep with a wand, the people we're gonna be chasing and finding, and you need to be fast, or you'll be on the floor, dead or worse," Fenrir said creepily. Scabior rolled his eyes, who would listen to this idiot? If these people were serious about running, they'd be better at hiding themselves.
Which brought another point forward in Scab's mind: how were they to infiltrate the runners' defenses? Or was this part of the classes darling Fennie would teach?
Fenrir was trying to brainwash them. And it was almost working, Scabior could see as much when he simply looked to his right and left. His mates were already nodding vigorously in agreement. Scab's eyes rolled back and forth, as if shaking his head. Idiots. He, too, was one of them.
"Or if you don't… he'll make you a slave, a real slave similar to the house elves, where he'll kill your family in front of your eyes and threaten you so that you have no other choice but to work for him. He'll make sure that he is your only hope," Fenrir went on, using his hairy hands and dirty fingernails to demonstrate everything. Scabior really wished he had either nail clippers, or a nail brush… or both! Now he knew what to get Fenrir for Christmas!
Scabior pulled himself and pulled him to his right mind, Fennie was threatening to kill young women, pretty young women, and children and men and babies, but that wasn't the point. Scab had had enough. Fenrir was bloody scary, and someone had to stand up to the bloody coot – even if it cost him his life. Not that it would, Fenrir would see someone with balls and he'd be promoted from his current state. Or he'd be ripped to shreds at the next full moon, whichever.
Though, it wasn't the man's odd nature that frightened the young man, it was the fact that he was way more wordy and literate and smarter than he'd thought.
So, with a gulp, he took a step forward. Do or die, or both…
"I say that Fenrir scares, the living shit out of me," He said loudly, seeing Fenrir glance at him briefly before walking further down the line, "He'll make it look good for you, this crappy vagabond vigilante group he's attempting to form on orders of the Dark Lord, even if it is an admittedly good way to catch mudbloods and bloodtraitors, but all he truly cares about is the blood that will be spilt,"
"How true, kid," Fenrir had finally stopped and gave the boy his full attention, "do go on."
Scabior stepped forward, it seemed as though his attempt at grabbing Fenrir's attention had worked. Now he had to utilize it.
"So pull out your wands," He said to the row of brainwashed wags, "'cause, kids, you'll need it. If you don't gonna fight, you're blood's gonna be decorating the pretty floor, got it?"
Fenrir was impressed. Grudgingly so, he'd fully expected to have a meal at the end of the training session, but this kid had brains and balls, which was a good combo to have in leaders. Maybe he'd use this kid for political gain.
"The boys and girls at that school, they're all ignorant and fun-loving, but they don't know what's gonna hit 'em," Scabior went on at the revolting beast's request, "But they're all troubled and hurt and plagued by some or other mad malady, like mice nests, broken hearts, futility, candor, I realize the words I'm using are to large for you all to comprehend, but it ain't you I'm trying to impress, now is it?" He winked at the nearest guy, "Well, Fenrir still scared the living shit out of me, but not so much that I wouldn't speak my mind."
"Yes, Scabior," Fenrir growled with a strange relish, "what's your point in this speech? Are you suggesting we attack the school? We make the children bleed dry for the sins of their fathers?"
"Hold on, beastie, I ain't sayin' nothing like that! Hold those claws in for a mo', will ya? Those kids done nothing wrong, you know? They're innocent, like you were when you were… well, I don't think you, dear boy, were ever innocent, but they're all innocent as… well, I'm stumped here, isn't there a comparison?" Scabior bit the inside of his cheek, completely sidetracked from the original topic.
He amused Fenrir. Perhaps Fenrir would draw this man to him, to be in his group. At least he'd always have a laugh. That was most likely. He would be the only one allowed to speak to the leader in such a manner, for it showed bravery, but also a bit of folly. Here he was, nearly succeeding in brainwashing the lot of them, safe for this kid, who was now helping him in a very peculiar way.
"I say all werewolves scare, the living shit out of me," Scabior mused to himself, before returning his attention to the troop, his problem of finding a suitable allegory forgotten, "so be nice to Fennie over there, or he'll bleed you dry like on of 'em kids he's been wanting to bleed dry for some time now." He said, taking his place amongst the now entirely indoctrinated bunch.
Fenrir wanted to laugh. Badly. But he couldn't, he couldn't show the others that this rebellion was acceptable.
"So darken your stance," Fenrir said, "because if anyone else dares to speak to me in a manner as he had done, and you'll face my wrath at the full moon, got it? He's my second, my first mate, my second half…"
"Beastie, we ain't married, ya know?" Scabior snapped, folding his arms crossly.
"Or strike a violent dance, because you'll run, boys, and not to snatch mudbloods and bloodtraitors, but you'll be running from me," Fenrir's eyes darkened and he licked his lips, "your whole family will,"
Scab shivered. Man, Fennie was creepy.
"Maybe I'll leave the kids alone," Fenrir said, stroking the tiny beard he had, before turning to a man and closing the distance between them, "but not that big a chance," The man's eyes were huge, he was terrified, his breathing coming out in heavy gasps.
Scabior thought he saw what was coming next. Fenrir would sink his teeth into the man's terrified man's neck and rip out his throat. He had to stop it. And seeing as he was Fennie's soon-to-be wife (well, that was how Fennie had described it, wasn't it?), he figured he should step in and make the monster see reason. He was the only one with enough guts and equal foolishness to do it.
"Fennie, beastie, baby, no killing," He wagged a finger and pouted, "Master won't be happy, and you'll be in the dogbox."
Fenrir took a step back, breathing deeply. Scabior flinched before grabbing the werewolf's shoulders and pulling him back. He knew what to do now, what would calm down the beastie inside Fenrir Greyback.
"Why don't we form a new band?" He asked, a bright spark had gone off in his head, that was what they were there for, wasn't it? "A group dedicated to catching the unwanted ones… the ones that left school; or mudbloods on the run?"
And thereby save the children of wizarding kind? The last part wasn't said aloud, but Scabior felt that Fenrir didn't need to know that snippet of information.
Plus, it was way more fun to tease the not-so-illiterate idiot, and Fennie actually listened to him, it was a good day for Scab. He wasn't killed brutally by a werewolf that hunted nevermind the time of day, he wasn't trampled by a mob and, best of all; he had a peach in his pocket that was just waiting to be devoured mouthful by mouthful.
"We snatch them." Scabior said, obviously the werewolf didn't get what he meant. And he thought Fennie was actually smarter…
This meant Scabior was probably the smartest guy there, and he could play his cards so that Fennie, beastie, did what he said by acting as a jester. It was a good plan. And it would ascertain him a place on either side; it just depended on who won the war.
Did the Dark Lord win (which Scab still doubted, it was laughable, what with people like Lucius running around), he'd make himself the brains behind Fennie. Did Potter and pals win, he'd justify himself by his defending of the schoolchildren and taming the mean creature and beastie that was Fenrir Greyback.
Scab looked to Fennie for an answer with an eyebrow raised, waiting for an answer.
Fenrir nodded, apparently pleased.
A/N: Um… I liked it, I liked the way it came out, I liked Scabior's humour… yeah, this was fun to revamp!