"That Malkoran bloke… your leader… what's he like?" Tony asked Blackbeard. Imhotep and Gorgo had left an hour ago, to visit the village nearby, and Silverclaws was still asleep. So was Evey, needless to say. It had been a long night.
The former pirate shrugged. "I dunno. Never met him."
Tony frowned. "Really? Don't you people have welcoming parties for new recruits, or meetings once in a while?"
Edward snorted. "Welcoming parties? How cute," he said with a mocking grin. "Nope, we have nothing of the sort. Only a few meetings now and then, but not everyone's invited."
"But he had to okay the turning, didn't he? Mustn't he give his consent as to who the next Wolf will be?"
"He doesn't give a shit about that. If he did, we wouldn't be in that pickle with bloody Greyback, would we? Malkoran shouldn't have let me bite Grigori in the first place. Man's insane."
"Then why did you turn him?"
"Because he doesn't appear insane. It's not obvious. He's quite charming. Very… compelling. He never told us about Greyback, you know. We only found out years later, during the first war against Voldemort." He sighed. "Grigori mentored him, put silly notions in his head. The werewolf cause, as they call it, it was Grigori's idea, originally. To unite all werewolves and overtake the wizarding world. After that, subjecting the Muggles would be a walk in the park. To right the wrongs they did us, to avenge the countless wolves who died during the Great Hunt."
"Where is he know, Rasputin? Do you know?"
"After he helped Grindelwald rise to power, we warned him to be more discreet. We threatened to have him locked up. He lay low for years after that, and we thought he'd gotten the message, but then we realised he'd turned Greyback and that they were helping Voldemort. We tried to arrest Grigori, but he fled, I don't know where to. Haven't heard from him since then. Greyback… we didn't know what to do with him. Malkoran didn't give any sign of life, so we took a vote, the rest of us. It was decided that he would be released and left alone, provided that he be quiet and didn't involve himself in wizarding matters. He was young, and new, and we gave him the benefit of the doubt."
"What will you do if you find him? Or Rasputin? Locking them up seems rather mild, considering what they've done."
"Well, we can't kill them, and we can't exile them – we can't afford to have them watched constantly to make sure they remain where they should." He shrugged again. "Like we said before, our hands are tied."
"Why can't you kill them?" Tony asked softly. He was against violence in general, but if anyone deserved death, it was Greyback. Provided that they found a way to hurt him without harming Evey in the process, of course.
Edward scowled. "We literally can't. As in, we are unable to do it. Have you ever seen one of us being seriously injured?" Tony shook his head. "It's impossible to do us any permanent damage. We regenerate too fast. Limbs grow back. Everything grows back." Tony threw him a doubtful glance.
"Don't you know how I died, lad? According to the history books, I was beheaded. Well, it took a while, sure, hours at least, but here I am. And Grigori… well, you must have heard how he supposedly died."
"What about fire? What if you're burned down to ashes?"
"Fire's a fucking painful way to torture us, but it won't kill us. We'll regenerate as fast as we burn."
"Drowning? Poison?"
Edward laughed. "No and no. I thought drowning would do us in for sure, but no. The water is just… repelled, somehow. Poison is eliminated from the bloodstream before it can do any damage. We're immune to magic, and silver bullets don't work, either, not like it does on regular werewolves. Or vampires. The only thing known to have the potential of ending us is a well-placed bite or scratch from one of your folk, as far as I know."
"Us folk? You mean Ancients?"
"Uh-huh. And vice versa. Didn't you know? Odd. Every Wolf is aware of the fact. Hence the blatant distrust between Wolves and Ancients. That's why our two races loathe each other, lad. How can you not know that?" he asked again, his bushy brows knit together.
"No one saw fit to mention it, apparently," Tony muttered darkly. Damn them all. How had they not deemed it important enough to tell him?
"Well, if you were to bite me, say, right in the throat, it wouldn't regenerate. I'd bleed to death." He chuckled suddenly. "Of course, you'd have to reach my throat first. I doubt you would, unless I allowed it." He made a dismissive gesture. "That's purely theoretical, anyway. So far we've managed to avoid conflict that would degenerate to the point where we'd kill each other, thankfully." He rose from his seat. "Now, do you mind if I wander around the woods for a bit? Always been curious about magical creatures."
"Um… sure, but some are not exactly friendly, you know. Especially the Spriggans, at this time of year."
"That's alright. They won't bother a full-fledged werewolf, now will they?" Blackbeard said with a feral smile.
Evey woke up late in the afternoon, feeling hungry. Walden wouldn't be up for another hour or two, so she put on some pyjamas and went downstairs.
It was good to be home. Although she had only been at the manor once before, she already felt like she knew the place, like she belonged here.
She almost had a heart attack in the middle of the stairs when Walden's great-granduncle suddenly materialised and nearly floated through her. He had died forty years ago, after his cauldron exploded, and his ghost never left the house. Most of his face and neck was gone, which made it impossible for him to speak, so Evey simply waved at him and then continued on her way.
Antonin was reading The Quibbler in the couch, and Silverclaws was eating some of the remaining cake and studying the portraits of Walden's ancestors which decorated the walls of the living room. The Wolves had spent the night here, as well as Imhotep and Gorgo. They were the only ones who had come by car, and since it had been snowing in the early morning, Walden had offered both couples a room – there were twelve bedrooms in total, so they could have housed all their guests, if necessary.
"Hey," Evey said with a yawn. She peeked outside through the window. "Have you cleaned up already?" There were no traces of the wedding and ensuing party. It had lasted well into the night; the last guests to leave had been Fred and George, around six in the morning.
"No, the house elves did," Tony replied with a shrug. "They insisted."
"Are you sure we shouldn't pay them?" she asked anxiously. "Or give them something, I don't know. I feel terrible, knowing that they worked so hard and are not getting anything in return."
Tony sighed, but he smiled at her. "They're house elves, V. I know Muggle-borns often struggle with the concept, but that's how it is. They're like… eager, willing slaves. I know how it sounds, but…" He made a gesture to signify he couldn't do anything about it. "They're just happy to help."
She took a seat beside him. "Fine. Any cake left, or did you eat it all?" she asked Silverclaws. The werewolf shook his head and pointed toward the kitchen. According to history, the rōnin had died in 1645, at age sixty-one. But the Wolves, unlike the Ancients, didn't need to die to become what they were. As they had explained to her during that long car drive in November, since most of them had been bitten between the age of thirty and fifty, they had to fake their deaths at some point, when the fact that they didn't age became too obvious to their contemporaries. Only Ramesses had been close to death when he was turned, and therefore looked, to put it in Teddy's words, "like a well-preserved mummy". Silverclaws had been turned when he was forty-four, and had faked a fatal illness in the last years of his public life. A dead man that resembled him had been found and buried in his stead, and he had moved on.
"I'll get you a plate," Tony said before she could move.
Silver snorted softly, but he didn't say anything. He was a man of few words. Then again, Ted likely talked enough for both of them. "Where's the pirate?" Evey asked as she sat down on the couch.
"Outside. Wanted to see the beasts."
"He went out there alone?" Silver nodded. "Some of them are dangerous. Does he know that?"
"Sure. He just doesn't care." He grinned suddenly. "We once defeated a Kraken, you know. He'll be alright. He's more resourceful than he looks, and less stupid."
High praise, coming from him. "A Kraken? Did you actually sail with him?"
"Indeed. I was bored, and I needed a new… career, so I joined up with his crew. I only turned him years later. After the Kraken," he added with a smile. "I was quite impressed with him that day."
Tony was back with her cake. "Sometimes I think it would be worth the mess, just to have a taste of it. It smells delicious."
"It's divine," Silverclaws said tactlessly. "Mind if I have another slice?" They both shook their head, and he went to the kitchen.
"I saw you dance with Tonks," Evey told Tony. "I guess yelling at them did have some effect after all."
"It did. But she was mostly trying to make Remus jealous, I think."
Evey frowned. "Remus? Why? Are they…?"
"Well, no. She would like that, but he's against it. Something about being too old and dangerous."
She laughed. "What should I say? I married a vampire twice my age."
"Exactly what she told him, but he refuses to hear it. He says vampires are different, more in control of their urges."
"So she just told you that? You've become her confidant now?" That was unlikely.
"I overheard her and Molly talk about it some time ago," he admitted. "I was trying to get news of the front, but then I got curious. She was angry, but I explained that if they allowed us in their meetings I wouldn't have to eavesdrop on private matters inadvertently."
"And? What did she say?"
"That she'd bring it up with the others. We'll see."
That would be good. She would enjoy some peace and quiet here, some privacy too, but she was tired of being idle, just like Walden and Tony. They wanted to help bring Voldemort down. According to Professor Snape, who was also a member of the Order, the Death Eaters hadn't realised that Antonin was alive, since he'd remained invisible the whole time he was at the Ministry in June, and they now believed Walden was dead as well. Furthermore, it seemed Greyback had not revealed Evey's existence to Voldemort – not that she had expected him to, but it was still good to have confirmation. In any case, it meant that nobody would be looking for them and that there was therefore no reason for them to be stuck indoors.
"Where are the others?" she asked. "Imhotep and Gorgo?"
"They went down to the village. There's a Christmas market all weekend." He stood up abruptly and clapped his hands. "Now, let's get down to business." He indicated the pile of presents on a nearby table. "I've been dying to unwrap them for hours."
"Um… you know, technically, they're for Walden and me, so… it might be best to open them when he's around."
"Aw, come on, he doesn't care about the presents. He never did. I always opened his stuff on his birthday when we were younger. Please?" Merlin, he looked like a kid on Christmas Day.
"Alright, go on. Just pick a few, we'll open the rest later."
He practically bounded on the table and selected some packages.
"We didn't get you anything," Silverclaws said. Evey started slightly, because she hadn't heard him come back from the kitchen. He made absolutely no noise when he moved – at least no noise that she could hear. "But you can keep the music stuff, if you want. I have copies of everything in my other flat."
"Seriously? That's amazing! Thank you." She got up to hug him.
He stiffened, but he didn't push her away. "Your scent is truly mesmerising," he murmured.
She stepped back to frown at him. "I keep hearing that. What do I smell like, exactly?"
He cocked his head slightly, and his nostrils flared as he took another whiff. "Cherry blossom." Another sniff. "Tobacco, of the sort Ted is fond of." He closed his eyes to take it all in more fully. "White tea, and the smell of the earth after a downpour."
"So I was not imagining it," Tony said with surprise. Evey and Silver both looked at him questioningly. "When I bit you, last year," he told Evey, "I thought your blood tasted odd. Not like blood at all, in fact. I assumed I was just making up for the lack of diversity in the drinks I'm now allowed to ingest, but…" He trailed off and ruffled his hair. "It was like a blend of coffee, rum and chocolate mint ice cream, all at once, but not in an unpleasant way. As if they were all there but separately. It's hard to explain," he added with some frustration.
Evey nodded gravely. "Greyback said I smelled like Amortentia. I couldn't make sense of it, but now…" She snorted. "Perhaps I also taste like it. It keeps getting weirder, doesn't it?"
Tony chuckled. "Weirder than picturing you as a werewolf? No, I think not." He presented her with a small leather pouch that had seen better days. "I'm not sure if it's a gift, but it was on the table…"
She untied the knot and extracted a tiny vial filled with golden liquid. They all stared at it for a moment. "Is that what I think it is?" Evey finally asked Tony.
"Felix Felicis? That would be my first guess, yes. The colour is quite unique. Is there a note?"
She upturned the pouch, but nothing came. She opened the vial carefully and sniffed its contents. "No smell. Felix Felicis has no scent, right?"
"Right. But who is it from? It's an advanced potion, so I doubt it was home-brewed. But it must have cost a fortune! Even a teeny vial like that must be worth hundreds of Galleons, if not thousands."
Evey shook her head. She had no idea, but it would certainly prove useful in the future, if they ever faced Voldemort and his cronies in battle again.
And then perhaps no one would have to die. Again.
