Thanks to Kmoaton for betaing. It's been a great help. Enjoy!
Fenrir Greyback had had better days.
He had been summoned away early in the morning hours, shortly after bringing Harry Potter, now Heinrich Beltz, into his household. Since then, he had been at Malfoy manor, where the Dark Lord had taken up residence. The Dark Lord had summoned most of his Death Eaters back from a raid, expecting updates and good news. Unfortunately, that had not been the case.
The werewolf rubbed his shoulder in irritation. It was commonly believed that the Dark Lord Voldemort preferred using the Cruciatus curse on his followers and enemies alike but the man was much more inventive than that. He easily grew bored with using the same spell, especially when it made him predictable. Instead, there was no telling which curse or jinx he would use on his followers when they disappointed him. The Cruciatus was used only when he was severely annoyed.
This time Fenrir had been struck with only a simple—but powerful—whipping hex. It hadn't drawn any blood this time because the werewolf had requested to speak to the Dark Lord privately after the meeting. Of course, that meeting had been put off by several hours because the man insisted on speaking with the rest of the inner circle as well. Each one had been given missions on top of the ones that they had already been given. Now, it was Fenrir's turn to talk with his lord privately. With a deep breath, he entered the room and knelt.
"What is it?" the Dark Lord Voldemort hissed. Fenrir barely flinched as he felt his mind being invaded, not that it did Voldemort any good. Werewolves had particularly strong Occulemency shields and only the strongest Legillemens could glean anything from them. Fenrir's were stronger than most of his pack's because he had spent years fighting to keep his position as alpha of the pack and there had always been a few werewolves that tried mind magic to gain the upper hand.
"I have in my possession someone that might help us win the war against Dumbledore and the Ministry," Greyback said carefully, making sure not to meet the snake-like man's eyes. "While it is an enemy of yours, this someone doesn't remember anything about their life, including what Dumbledore has taught them. I believe that I can turn them into a loyal follower of yours."
"How can one person help turn the tide of this war?" Voldemort demanded. "Who is this enemy of mine that you have?"
"It would be wise of me to not say yet," Fenrir said quietly. "In case this plan doesn't go the way I hope. That way I would not get my lord's hopes up for nothing. However, I truly believe that this would be a worthwhile endeavor."
"As long as it doesn't interfere with anything else I have given you," Voldemort said carefully. "And as soon as this enemy's changes in allegiance becomes a certainty, you will bring them to me so that I may judge if they are worthy or not to accept my mark."
Fenrir gave a small nod while keeping his head bent. "Whatever my lord wishes," he said quietly. "I will do my best to serve my lord and his wishes and I will do my best to make sure that this plan will help with our efforts to win the war."
After Voldemort's dismissal, Fenrir quickly left then manor, careful to hide his disgust. It had once been an elegant place but now it just smelled of death. He wondered how the Malfoy family was taking it, having to live day in and day out with the Dark Lord in their household. He would be surprised if they lived out the year, despite Lucius's position as the right hand of the Dark Lord. Voldemort was becoming more visibly irritated with the man and if Lucius didn't alter the Dark Lord's opinions soon, he could only assume that Voldemort would be looking for a new second to take Lucius Malfoy's place. Fenrir just needed to make sure that Harry Potter was ready to be presented when that moment occurred. If he brought Harry Potter to his lord, not as a captive, but as someone who believed in the Dark and was willing to pledge loyalty to Voldemort, he was sure that he could easily solidify his position at the Dark Lord's side. With that assurance, he wouldn't have to worry about Voldemort reneging on his agreements to implement some fairer laws for werewolves. None of that registration crap, the werewolves could live as free citizens.
Lunch had just barely started when Fenrir arrived back at the pack's manor. It had been one of the vacation homes for the Lestrange family and Fenrir had delighted on the look on Bellatrix's face when she had been informed that she would need to give it up for him and his pack.
Saskia met him at the door. She greeted him with a nod.
"How'd this morning go?" he asked her.
"Smoothly," she replied. "There were a few unexpected questions but they were all easily answered. I'm not sure how much longer they'll be answered that easily, though. He's a very curious boy."
"Don't I know it," Fenrir muttered. He had heard the stories about Potter's curiosity and how it always drew him into trouble.
"He needs a wand," Saskia said. "If we keep one from him, he'll find it odd."
"Ollivander is out of the question," Fenrir decided immediately. "That man is more trouble than the information he can provide us with. I don't know how he's still alive."
"I'm sure the Dark Lord has his reasons," Saskia said calmly. "I was thinking the local wandmaker in the village of Falmouth. He's a coward and can easily be dealt with using threats."
"I suppose you want me to take him?" Fenrir sneered at the female werewolf. Saskia nodded.
"I have to go through the manor," she said. "Get rid of the rest of the newspapers and the photographs. We can't have him suspecting anything and this would be the best time to do it."
Fenrir sighed. He had expected to be able to pawn the boy off on Saskia and have that be it. Apparently that would not be the case. He wasn't sure that it was the best idea to give his enemy a wand, memories or no memories, but Saskia had a point. Heinrich would find it off if he didn't have a wand when everyone else did. They didn't want the teen asking difficult questions.
The man stalked into the kitchen, where the pack was beginning to eat lunch. They stilled when they spotted him, stopping all conversation and eating. Heinrich stopped a second after the others. He had decided that it was best to do what they did, in hopes that he wouldn't offend anyone.
"Oh, keep eating," Fenrir snarled at his pack before turning to the teen. He lowered his voice. "You and I are going into town after you're finished eating. It's come to my attention that you need some necessities."
Heinrich nodded and quickly resumed eating his sandwich. Fenrir nearly frowned when he noticed the small size of the sandwich. If the boy wanted to survive among the pack, he would need to start eating more. Saskia needed to step up her game to make sure the teen remained healthy and ready to be presented to the Dark Lord at a moment's notice.
Once lunch was over, Fenrir wasted no time bringing Heinrich to the wandmaker in Falmouth. He had had a long morning and wished to be back and relax. His other missions for the Dark Lord were mostly completed and he couldn't do anything further for the next few days.
Apparating was the easiest way to travel, though the most risky. As Heinrich recovered from the brief trip, Fenrir cast a glamour on the teen. It wouldn't do to have someone recognize him for Harry Potter. His plan would be in shambles if that happened. The glamour didn't alter his appearance by much. It just made the scar disappear and changed the color of his eyes and hair. It was an easy glamour that could be held for an hour or so by Fenrir without drawing attention to the spellwork.
Fenrir felt exposed walking through the town to find the wandmaker's small store. The village was terrified of his presence the last time he had come here but there were always risks to walking out in the open, especially in the daylight. He preferred to do most of his traveling by night.
As the pair walked through the town, Heinrich decided that this would be an opportune moment to ask Fenrir some of the questions about pack life that he had been wondering about.
"Are you the leader of the pack?" he asked. It was best to start simple.
"Yes," Fenrir growled. "I am the alpha."
"How does one become alpha?" Heinrich pursued. "Were you chosen by the others?" The older werewolf snorted at the absurdity of the question.
"No," he said. "I originally passed on my abilities to them, so I control and lead them."
"Passed on abilities—by biting?" Fenrir gave a curt nod. "But didn't someone bite you? What happened to them? Why aren't they leader?"
"We had a disagreement and separated," Fenrir stated vaguely. They had separated in a way. Fenrir had left the town where he had been raised and the one who had created him had left the realms of the living.
"What happened?" Heinrich asked. "What was the disagreement about?"
Fenrir stopped him with a glare.
"That doesn't concern you in the slightest," he growled. "Stop asking questions. Just know that I am alpha and that I have the power to control you and your mother." Fenrir could really only control Saskia but he hoped that the threat to her would stop any further questions.
It seemed to work and within minutes, they had located the shop of the local wandmaker. Fenrir's eyes hardened. He had been here a few times in the past year and he wasn't very fond of the wandmaker, the quivering, sniveling idiot that he was. However, he didn't have any other options.
The wand shop was small and dusty. Barely any natural light flooded through the small storefront windows. Most of the wands had been placed in boxes that were stacked haphazardly on shelves that covered the room's walls.
Greyback had covered his nose and mouth almost immediately after entering the room with a cloth that he tied around his face Heinrich was debating about doing the same. The amount of dust in the one room shop made his throat constrict and his nose itch. The green-eyed teen broke into a sneezing fit and when his eyes stopped watering from all the sneezing, there was a pudgy, nervous-looking man in front of them.
"M-Mr. Greyback," the man stuttered, twisting his hands in front of him. "What can I do for you?"
"We need a wand," Fenrir snarled. "Why else would we be here?"
"S-surely you would want a wand of higher quality than mine. M-maybe Ollivander would be better suited for what you are looking for?" The man shrank under Fenrir's glare. Fenrir would have bared his teeth but it would have been pointless since the man couldn't see his mouth.
"For reasons that don't concern you, Ollivander's is not an option. Now, if you want prompt payment, I would suggest that you start working."
The wandmaker jumped and started picking up some boxes that looked like they were about to fall on the floor any second.
"I-is this for you or the boy?" he asked, giving Heinrich a curious glance.
"The boy," Fenrir snarled. "If it was for me, I would have come alone." The stupidity of people easily grated on his nerves.
Heinrich watched the interaction between the two silently, uneasy with the exchange. The wandmaker seemed terrified of Fenrir for reasons unknown to him. He was curious as to why. Yes, Fenrir Greyback seemed somewhat frightening with his wild appearance and large build and yes, his manner was brusque and practical, but was that enough to make others scared of him? Had the two done business in the past that had frightened the smaller man or was the wandmaker making assumptions about Fenrir's nature because Fenrir was a werewolf?
At Fenrir's irritated gesture, Heinrich stepped forward. He gave the wandmaker a cold glare. The sniveling man reminded him of a rat and Heinrich really hated rats. Just the thought of them filled him with anger.
That thought startled him. Why did he hate rats so much? There had to be a story behind that.
"Holly, fourteen inches, unicorn tail hair." The wandmaker presented the wand to Heinrich. Heinrich gripped it lightly but the wand did nothing. With shaking hands, the wandmaker pulled it away and presented a new wand to the teen.
"Elm, ten inches, dragon heartstring."
Nothing.
The system repeated for nearly an hour. With each wand that failed the test, Fenrir grew visibly more irritated. The wandmaker grew more concerned, which quickly became apparent in his increased shaking and nervous glances toward the werewolf. He only had a small number of wands. His selection was not nearly as large as Ollivander's. He had no idea what the werewolf would do if he didn't manage to find a wand for the boy, though he knew that the man didn't appreciate failure. Death would be an easy way out if he failed in this task.
"What's taking so long?" Fenrir eventually snarled, causing the wandmaker to jump and send a few boxes flying across the room. "I thought you were supposed to be an expert. This is just guessing and checking. Any simpleton can do this."
"I-I don't know, M-Mr. Greyback. My wands have never been so troublesome before," the wandmaker stuttered, sweat starting to glisten on his forehead. "I-I think that the wands aren't accepting him because he already has a fully functioning wand." That was the only explanation he could think of.
"His wand is broken so it can't be fully functioning," Fenrir snarled. "Try harder."
Heinrich looked at the older man in surprise. Saskia had believed that his wand was still whole, just lost.
"It's broken?" he asked. "Not lost?"
"Of course it's broken," Fenrir snapped. "It was broken when you were arrested."
"Oh," Heinrich said quietly, not sure how he should respond and stored the tidbit of information to consider later. The wandmaker looked between the two curiously before Fenrir growled at him to get working again.
There were only five wands left in the store at this point. The wandmaker greatly hoped that one of these five were the one. He was rather fond of his life.
"Cedar, twelve inches, contains the tail feather of a hippogriff," the wandmaker said carefully as he passed it over. It was a relatively new wand, just created this morning. Typically he would have preferred for the wand to sit in his shop for a few days unused so the wand and core could reach a harmonious relationship but he didn't have time currently for that to happen.
Heinrich reached for the wand. As soon as it was in his grasp, it felt right to him. The wand did nothing and the wandmaker attempted to pull it away, thinking it was another failure, but Heinrich's grasp on the wand tightened.
"This is it," he said firmly. "This is the one."
Fenrir nearly let out a sigh of relief. Finally. The wandmaker looked troubled.
"It will be reliable as long as you continue to respect it. However, if you stop respecting its abilities, it will start producing unpredictable results and will only become reliable again once you start to respect it again," he explained. "Now shall we talk about prices? Twelve galleons."
Fenrir growled.
"That's five galleons more than normal prices," he informed the wandmaker.
"Well, there are other things to be considered," the wandmaker said. Now that they were talking about prices, he was growing more comfortable. That was something he could control. "It took some time to find the right wand."
"Because you insisted on using a guess and check method," Fenrir snarled but the wandmaker ignored his comment.
"The wand also contains a relatively rare core and is newly made. It would be cheaper if I've had it laying around for some time but I made it just this morning and it's worth more because of that."
Fenrir gestured for Heinrich to go outside. Curious, the teen obeyed but he stopped just outside the door, where he could still hear what was going on inside.
"Take the trace off, and I'll pay you nine galleons. That's two more than you would normally get."
"Twelve galleons or nothing," the wandmaker said. Fenrir's eyes narrowed.
"No wand is worth that much," he stated. "At least not for a normal person. Are you sure you're not charging me more because of what I am or who I am?"
"You have no proof to make those claims!" the wandmaker protested. "I'm trying to run a business and my prices are what I decide they are. The Ministry of Magic will back me up on that!"
"For now," Fenrir said lowly. He stared at the heavy-set man to make sure that he got the hidden meaning in his words. "Now nine galleons, no trace, and I'll make sure that your name doesn't come up when things change. Your business might survive longer that way."
The wandmaker shivered at the implied threats. He really had no choice.
"Fine," he muttered and grudgingly accepted the money.
"I'll be back if I need your services again," Fenrir said. He didn't like dealing with the man but he relished the implications of that statement. The man would lose business if his neighbors found out that he did business with werewolves, especially repeat business. His reputation would be ruined in the Light community because no wandmaker could withstand the bad business that could come with associating with werewolves. No wandmaker other than Ollivander.
As Fenrir stepped outside the shop, he thrust the wand towards Heinrich.
"Don't break it," he growled. "I'm not coming here with you again." Heinrich barely had time to give a small nod before the werewolf had gripped his arm and apparated them away from Falmouth.
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