Fides in Culpa
Chapter Six: Gallivanting with Greyback
Rita's search for Fenrir Greyback had taken longer than she had expected, though tracking a werewolf party was not as difficult as she had thought it would be, considering that Greyback's reputation easily planted him close enough to rural areas so that he could camp outside until the next full moon; and when he would transform, he'd be close enough to a food source to do what he needed to do to fulfill his heinous goals.
However, and it was to Rita's surprise and good fortune, Greyback had apparently decided that simply hunting children as a werewolf hadn't satisfied the heightened level of bloodlust that he had obtained over the course of the last decade. Rather, it had been outside of a small town, just outside of England, actually, named Sequoia Grove. And he had been accompanied by five others like he—yet, Rita surmised that these five others had been personally groomed by him. They couldn't have been over eighteen-years-old, and they were wild, raucous, reckless. Rita had spotted them making a ruckus where in a small town, it hadn't gone unnoticed. The sound of Muggle weapons—a blast of noise ("Gunfire," Severus had described it for Rita before) and in the cover of darkness, Rita watched the werewolf pack retreat into the woods, where she followed them to their camp.
When she approached, Rita withdrew her wand from the pocket of her robes and removed the Disillusionment Charm she had placed on herself. Even if she hadn't lifted the enchantment, Greyback would have caught her scent and followed it; for even before she had retrieved her wand, Greyback turned around to smell the air, and his yellow eyes had stared directly at her.
"Hello, Rita," growled Greyback in a raspy, hoarse voice.
The teenagers whom had followed Greyback uttered a unanimous sound, like that of a distrustful dog, and stepped toward her; however, Greyback motioned with his hand for them to stand down, with Rita offering the half-breed a simpering, albeit condescending smile, followed by,
"Still getting off on small prey, Fenrir?" She set a hand on her hip and gestured to the small town several miles away. "When are you going to fight someone your own size?"
He revealed his sharp, pointed teeth, and one of his clawed hands stroked the hair on his face, as if slicking it back to appear more appealing; though, Rita fought back her revulsion to the best of her ability, pursing her lips into a tight smile as he stepped toward her.
"You came alone, Kitten," said Greyback. "Wonder if that's for my benefit or yours."
He leaned forward. Rita didn't drop her gaze, for she knew that when he gave her a hearty smell, he raised an eyebrow and then cocked his head to the side, smirking disdainfully. The scent of her husband. Rita pocketed her wand in her robes, and to further dismantle any more need of his suggestive innuendos, she instantly rolled up her left sleeve and showed him exactly why she had tracked him down.
"He sent me," said Rita. "Specifically, He asked for you."
"Though not to give me one of those sexy tattoos," Greyback said.
"Maybe it's because the Dark Lord knows that you really don't care about His cause," said Rita. "Everyone knows why you joined Him in the First Wizarding War, and it wasn't for any noble effort." She gave a nod toward the watching wolf pack behind him.
"It's a noble effort in my eyes."
"Because you are blinded by hatred for your own kind."
"My kind?" Greyback gave an amused laugh, as if Rita had delivered a clever punchline. She didn't smile. "Oi, I did my best to inaugurate myself into His Inner Circle. I'm a true asset, as far as Dark Creatures go; this is the second time that the Dark Lord has asked me to return to His forces. I think that makes my role quite important, don't you, Kitten?"
Rita frowned. "I'm impartial to half-breeds myself, but you mean to—"
"Impartial?" Greyback gave a wide grin. "More than that, I hear." He placed a gnarled finger against Rita's cheek, intending to caress her jaw; but she pulled away. "Word gets around. How come you never opted to jump into bed with me? We could give it a go."
"We could," said Rita. "Though, my husband is still wounded from the first werewolf I slept with; you'd know him too. One of yours," she added coldly.
Greyback frowned at her.
"Unless you want to inform Severus about your intentions with me, we should really focus on the task at hand."
"Don't reckon I wanna square off with Snape." Greyback said quietly.
"No, I don't reckon you would."
"How about Lestrange? You and her still talking?" Greyback asked, more likely to weigh out the options rather than true curiosity.
"Every year," Rita sighed impatiently.
"Yeah, yeah, I reckon you're off the market. What, you got two people on that belt of yours; I'd hate to add more trouble."
"So gracious," Rita replied sarcastically.
Greyback returned with a playful smirk, and he gestured for her to follow him inwardly to the camp. A nest of tents, a rolling fire in a pit, and the five teenagers took their place beside it; and as Rita approached them, her suspicions were confirmed. It was evident that Greyback had laid into them fairly hard; each male had plain scars on their faces and arms. A couple of them had bloodied lips, likely because they had hesitated to harm a child or the parent of a child. So Greyback had taken a page out of Bellatrix's book and made them pay for their hesitation to do what was necessary.
Rita felt a small pang of sadness for them. They probably had known nothing else but what Greyback had put them through; she wondered how their families were faring without them. Or if they even had families to welcome them home if they could return. She nodded to each one of them respectfully.
"Pack," Greyback addressed them as one entity. "Rita Dolohov—Sorry—Rita Dolohov Snape. Shape-shifter," he sneered and that seemed to clarify a few things for them for the Pack glanced at each other; Rita felt an inkling that she might have come up in a few of their night-time conversations.
Greyback turned to her. "Welcome to the cozy family."
"Cozy?" Rita snorted. "Amenities aside, I was expecting a legion at your command." What a thing to report back to the Dark Lord, "My Lord, he has five people"—
"Muggles and their weapons," said Greyback. Then, when Rita looked skeptical, he said, "You'd be surprised how many of those things that the Muggles keep inside their homes. I saw one of their houses the other day; a father of three had an entire arsenal in his bedroom. Lost a few good ones that day."
Although the thought of Greyback breaking into a home of a single dad and his likely three daughters made Rita's flesh crawl, she shook her head:
"You've got a wand," Rita said incredulously. "And with how you're gallivanting around as a Wizard these days, it should be easy for you to both feed and curse the family you're attacking, shouldn't it?"
"They're surprisingly spry for Muggles."
"They aren't decrepit or incompetent," Rita remarked irritably. "Perhaps if you and your pack were quiet at night, as a stalker should be, it'd be easier, wouldn't it?"
"Oi!" Greyback said hotly. "Don't be nagging me now! You ain't no prized pony either."
"I'm not nagging." Rita said, crossing her arms. "All I'm saying is that your bloodlust makes you reckless. You're a predator. Do you know how I found you? I was in a tavern, and I caught wind that a bunch of howling and goings-on were happening on the outskirts of London. Come to find out, it's not literal howling. It's teenagers being teenagers—and you're the leader of the Pack. Or you're supposed to be anyway."
"I got five of them—" Greyback said.
"—Five," Rita fired back, "Out of how many, Greyback? Fifteen? Twenty? Eighty? It's been fourteen years and you've got five. What do you want, a gold star? Congratulations, Alpha Male, let me report back to my master that he's got a whopping five pups under his command; that ought to help overthrow the Ministry of Magic. How many of them are Wizards, hm?"
Greyback snapped his fingers. Rita glanced over his shoulder to see two out of the five teenagers raise their hands. So, three of them had been Muggles before Greyback got a hold of them. Oh, the things those three would see before they die. Muggles could barely accept that magic was real, let alone what the Dark Lord could reveal.
"So, two of them," said Rita.
Greyback uttered a low growl, inherently growing furious due to her condescension. He took another step toward her—Instantly, Rita reached for her wand and pointed the tip to his nose, frowning at him. She and Greyback had one thing in common, for certain: they both had hot tempers. He reached into his own robes, and he pointed his wand at her neck. His upper lip twitched.
"I don't want to duel you, Rita." Greyback said.
"I assure you," Rita breathed. "You don't want to."
The werewolves whom weren't blessed with magic blood rose to their feet and took a few paces back, vaguely aware of what to expect, though they didn't quite know when it would happen. The two that were Wizards remained seat by the fire, staring at their leader and one very angry Dark Witch, easily vexed, but rivaled by him. Greyback lowered his wand, and Rita did as well.
"I don't intend to take over your leadership, Greyback," Rita said, collecting herself. "The Dark Lord merely wants me to retain the concept that you are to give your—ahem—victims," she smiled crudely, "the offer of His patronage before you generously imbibe your need for human flesh. Respectively," she coined it with a half-shrug.
"A tail," he said.
"Correct," said Rita.
"I don't need a Witch on my heel."
"Clearly, you do because you have five in a pack," she resumed her taunting voice.
Greyback made a rough chuckle, and shook his head, "Just like the old times, eh, Kitten?"