The Howler burst into flames as the blistering message ended, and Tony stared at the ashes blankly for a moment.

He hadn't understood a single word. Had Jeanne purposefully yelled at him in French to confuse him, or had she, in her anger, forgotten that he wasn't fluent in her native language?

The Wolf Blackbeard didn't bother to conceal his mirth. "Boy, are you in trouble. Even I would think twice about pissing off the frog-eater."

Tony eyed him sharply. "Did you understand any of it?"

"Well, she's mad at you, mate." He stirred the contents of his mug, in which he'd added more cream than there was coffee. Why would anyone ruin a perfectly good cup of coffee by adding anything to it?

"Yeah, thanks, I figured out that much," Tony replied with a smirk.

Blackbeard shrugged. "You broke her heart. She only wants what's best for you, her precious son, and yet you insist on being an ungrateful brat. She's very disappointed in your behaviour. She wishes you'd at least talk to her. She can't understand why you won't reply to her texts or return her calls. She's considering summoning you. And she also said never to bother asking her for help again."

"Oh." Nothing new, really. That was pretty much what Alice had written in her own note. "Is that it?"

"You doubt my interpretation abilities?" the Wolf demanded, his right eyebrow quirked.

"No, I just…expected more cursing, I suppose."

Blackbeard laughed heartily. "There was! It wasn't relevant to the message, though, so I left it out. Would you like the non-censored version?" he asked with a grin.

Tony waved the offer away. "That won't be necessary."

Should he contact Jeanne? Should he make peace with his maker, or try to, at least? Her threat to summon him was an empty one; she could force him to find her, but not compel him to talk or do anything he didn't want to do – otherwise she would have done it weeks ago. She couldn't make him like her. Couldn't force him to be grateful or happy about his condition. Talking to her would be a waste of time, anyway. Jeanne was always right. She wouldn't admit to a fault. She would blame Tony for everything that she was angry about. Talking to her would only make things worse.

Maybe he should contact Alice, though. He didn't want to be at odds with her, and she was a lot more reasonable than Jeanne.

For now, however, Tony wanted to enjoy his day off at home. After weeks of intensive planning and coordinating and making calls, he needed a break.

Imhotep and Gorgo had left an hour ago, to visit Glenfinnan, the nearest village, and Silverclaws was still asleep. So was Evey, needless to say. It had been a long night. Walden would be out for the day, as usual.

The Wolves had spent the night and morning here, as well as the two Ancients. They were the only guests who had come by car, and since it had been snowing by the time the party ended, Walden had offered both couples a room – there were twelve bedrooms in total, so they could have housed all their guests, if necessary. Of course, Imhotep and Gorgo didn't sleep, but they'd taken the room anyway.

"That Malkoran bloke…your leader…what's he like?" Tony asked Blackbeard. He wasn't particularly interested in the answer but, hopefully, making small talk with the former pirate would keep Tony distracted until Evey and Walden awoke.

The Wolf scratched his beard, and a few crumbs fell out. He'd just devoured half a dozen freshly-baked croissants, courtesy of Caraid. "I dunno. I've only seen him a couple of times – never addressed him directly."

Tony frowned. "Seriously? Don't you people have welcoming parties for the new recruits, or meetings once in a while?"

Mere hours after awakening as an Ancient, head spinning with the news and utterly dazed, Tony had been forced to attend such a "party". When they'd finally allowed him to return to his temporary bedroom, mind swimming with names and historical details he didn't care about, he'd hoped to get some sleep before remembering that he couldn't. Instead he'd spent hours reminiscing about his life, about what he'd done, and how he'd gotten here and why. He'd wondered why he was alive at all, but it made sense, in a cruel way: his newfound immortality, an eternity to spend without food or rest, was his punishment for murdering Gideon Prewett and allying with the Dark Lord.

Of course, it also allowed for the possibility of redemption, which was why he'd begged Jeanne to return to his former life. So far, he'd done nothing to earn it, though.

"Welcoming parties? How adorable," the Wolf said crookedly. "Nope, we have nothing of the sort. Only a few meetings now and then, but not everyone's invited. Certainly not me, not since…" he trailed off, glancing away guiltily.

"But Malkoran has to give his permission before you turn the next Wolf, no?" Tony insisted.

"Lad, if Mal gave a shit, we wouldn't be in that pickle with bloody Greyback, would we? Mal shouldn't have let me bite Goldeneyes in the first place. That Russki's insane."

"You mean Rasputin, right?" Evey had explained that he was Greyback's maker. Blackbeard nodded glumly. "But if you knew that he was…mentally unstable, why did you turn him?"

"Because he doesn't appear insane. It's not obvious. The man exudes charisma. He never told us about turning Greyback, you know. We only found out years later, during the first war against Voldemort." He sighed. "Grigori mentored the cub, put silly notions in his head. The werewolf cause, as they called 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 werewolves who died during the Great Hunt."

The Great Hunt: an event that modern wizards liked to pretend had never happened.

Sometimes during the sixteenth century, the wizarding world had, almost as a whole, decided to exterminate werewolves, even enlisting Muggles to assist them in the task. The mania had originated in Europe – in France, to be specific, after a particularly gruesome spree of murders – and spread across Asia and Africa, reaching the Americas a few years later. It was one of the events that had led to the creation of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. Considered a plague worse than the Black Death by werewolves, the Great Hunt had reduced their worldwide population by nearly 75%. In a few countries, hunting and killing werewolves was still lawful, whether or not they attacked cattle or humans. They were simply considered as vermin.

That word had started more than one genocide throughout history, it seemed.

"Where is he now? Do you know?" Evey had mentioned Rasputin's banishment.

"After he helped Grindelwald rise to power and likely fomented both World War I and II, we warned Grigori to be more discreet. He lay low for years after that, and we thought he'd gotten the message, but then we realised that he'd turned Greyback and that they were aiding Voldemort. We arrested Grigori, but I have no idea what the…higher authorities decided to do with him. Banishment for life, they called it, but what does that even mean? They couldn't un-make him a Wolf. I doubt he'd truly be restrained very long no matter how well they bound him. Rumour has it that he's not on earth anymore…but that's ridiculous, of course. They wouldn't have killed him. Malkoran doesn't make any decision these days, but that's his one rule: killing Wolves and Ancients is strictly forbidden, even in retaliation. Every life is precious, or some Buddhist nonsense." He took a sip of coffee, and Tony lost focus of the conversation, staring longingly at the steaming mug. The smell alone was driving him crazy. So close, and yet forever out of reach.

"As for Greyback…" Blackbeard went on, though Tony hadn't prompted him and was now only half-interested in the topic he'd launched, "we didn't know what to do with him. Eventually, 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 he'd been manipulated, brainwashed, had a harsh life besides, so we went easy on him."

Greyback couldn't have been that young – he'd been at least forty-five when he was turned, older than Tony was now. Tony assumed that Blackbeard meant "young" in comparison with the other Wolves.

"What will you do if you find Greyback? Locking him up seems rather mild, considering what he's done. What he's still doing."

"Well, like I said, we can't kill him – both because it's forbidden and because of Evey – and the others are reluctant to banish him, too. We can't afford to have him constantly under surveillance to make sure that he behaves." He shrugged in apology. "As we told your people before, our hands are tied."

"Why is killing forbidden, though?" Tony asked softly. He was against violence in general, but if anyone deserved death, it was Greyback. Provided that they found a way to kill him without harming Evey in the process, of course.

"For one thing, Wolves can't kill Wolves, as you know, so we'd have to hire one of you to do the deed, and we are very reluctant to do that."

Tony blinked in confusion. "I…don't know anything of the sort. What are you talking about?"

The Wolf seemed genuinely puzzled. He leaned forward over the kitchen table. "What exactly do they teach you, at these 'welcoming parties' of yours?" His tone was half-mocking, half-incredulous. "You do know that we're practically invincible, yes?" Tony nodded hesitantly. No one had ever bothered to tell him why there was a practically in there. "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. Everything? He couldn't imagine being decapitated and then having his head grow back. But he'd trust Blackbeard's word on it. He had more experience with these things, certainly. "What about fire? What if you're burned down to ashes?" He pointed at the remains of the Howler for emphasis.

"Fire's a bloody painful way to torture us, but it won't kill us. We'll regenerate as fast as we burn."

What a pleasant notion. "Drowning? Poison?"

Blackbeard laughed. "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 they do 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 you, as far as I know. Though we've never actually put that theory to the test, of course."

"One of us? You mean Ancients?"

"Uh-huh. And vice versa. Didn't you know? That's very odd. Every Wolf is aware of the fact. Hence the blatant distrust between Wolves and Ancients. That's why our two races despise each other, lad. How can you not know that?" he asked, his bushy eyebrows 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? Jeanne was such a hypocrite. She expected everything from her progeny, but wasn't willing to give anything in return, not even this very essential information.

"Well, if you tore my throat out, the wound wouldn't regenerate. I'd bleed to death." Blackbeard chuckled dryly. "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. Evey said that there was a dragon?" Blackbeard's dark eyes glinted with excitement.

"Um…there is, but some of the beasts are not exactly friendly, you know. Especially the spriggans, at this time of year."

"That's alright. They won't bother a transformed Wolf, now will they?" Blackbeard said with a feral smile. He grabbed the three remaining croissants before heading out.

Evey woke up late in the afternoon, feeling ravenous. 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 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 a freak potion-making accident – his cauldron had exploded – and his ghost had never left the house. Most of his face and neck were 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 on 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.

"Good afternoon," 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 George and Fred, around four in the morning.

"The house elves did," Tony replied. "They insisted."

"Are you sure we shouldn't pay them?" Evey 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 just 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."

Slaves. Hermione would have had a fit, to hear him talk like that – and rightly so. It was one of the scarce things that Evey couldn't stand about the wizarding world, and which made her one of the few people who understood Hermione's fervent wish to improve house elves' rights. Even if the elves themselves didn't seem to want it. They just didn't know any better, in Hermione's opinion.

Evey took a seat beside Tony. "Fine. If you say so." She didn't want to feel guilty about the elves right now, not so soon after the most wonderful night of her life. "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 Evey 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 Ted's words, "like a well-preserved mummy". Miyamoto Musashi 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 Evey could move.

Silver snorted softly at Tony's eagerness, but he didn't say anything. "Where's the pirate?" Evey wondered.

"Outside. Fancied a look at your husband's zoo."

Husband. Evey savoured the word. She couldn't quite believe that she was married. She glanced toward the kitchen. Tony would likely hear whatever she said, but she didn't think that he would snitch to Walden. "Everyone bought it, right?" she asked Silver. "That Ted and you are…"

The Wolf nodded, his slanted eyes brimming with amusement. "There wasn't much acting required on Ted's part. Men flirt with Ted all the time. He's like a gay magnet."

Tony stood on the threshold, eyes wide. "Wait, you guys aren't…?"

Evey flushed. "They're not. I just thought…well, Walden didn't seem too happy that they were coming, and…" She trailed off, biting her lip. It wasn't really a lie, was it? She hadn't asked the Wolves to pretend or anything. People had just assumed that they were a couple, as Evey had hoped. To be fair, it was easy to believe, the way they behaved around each other - not like doting lovers, but like long-married partners who loved to bicker.

"But you live together," Tony said, the cake forgotten in one hand, a cup of tea in the other. "When Evey called Ted, you were there too."

Silver rolled his eyes. "You'd think that an immortal would have learned how to balance a budget and manage his financial assets, wouldn't you? Well, that's not Ted's case. Man has no regular income but spends every penny he has. That's why he often ends up crashing at my place, in London, or in some other flat I own. He has a key to all of them. I've grown too soft with age," he grumbled. "I shouldn't be so complacent. But he's my progeny," he added with a shrug, as if that explained everything.

"And, um…are you planning on telling Walden?" Tony asked Evey.

She smiled bashfully. "Guess I'll have to, at some point."

Tony moved forward and placed the cake and cup of tea on the table in front of her. "Sometimes I think it would be worth the mess, just to have a taste of it. It smells delicious." Apparently, he'd already dismissed the fake couple situation. When there was food nearby, Tony tended to get distracted.

"It's divine," Silverclaws concurred tactlessly. "Mind if I have another slice?" Evey shook her head, and the Wolf disappeared in the kitchen.

"I saw you dance with Tonks last night," Evey said as Tony sat beside her. "What was that about? Is she…interested in you, or…"

He snorted with laughter. "I should be so lucky. Nah, she was just trying to make Remus jealous, I think."

Evey frowned. "Remus? Why? Are they in a relationship? How do I not know that?"

"Well, no, they're not. Tonks would like that, but he's against it. Something about being too old and dangerous."

Dangerous? That was not a word Evey would associate with her former DADA professor, but he was a werewolf, after all. She sometimes forgot that. "What should I say? I married a vampire twice my age."

"That's exactly what she told Remus, but he refuses to hear it. He claims that vampires are different, more in control of their urges."

Excuses. Men were great at coming up with them. "And Tonks just told you that? You've become her confidant now?" That was unlikely.

"I overheard Molly and her talk about it some time ago," Tony admitted. "I was trying to get news of the war, but then this came up, and I kept listening out of sheer curiosity. And, um, I accidentally let it slip last night when I was dancing with Tonks."

"I see," Evey said noncommittally.

"She was angry, but I explained that if they allowed us in the Order's meetings, I wouldn't have to eavesdrop on private matters inadvertently."

Evey smirked. "Nice save. And? What did she say?"

"That she'd bring it up with the others. We'll see."

That would be good. Evey would enjoy some peace and quiet here at home, 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 entire time he was at the Ministry in June, and they now believed that Walden was dead as well, since that bastard Lestrange had killed him. Furthermore, it seemed that Greyback had not revealed Evey's existence to Voldemort, nor Antonin's resurrection as an immortal vampire – not that Evey had expected him to, but it was still good to have confirmation. In any case, it meant that nobody – besides Greyback, but they would deal with him when the time came – would be looking for them and that there was therefore no reason for them not to participate in the Order's activities.

"Where are the others?" Evey asked. "Imhotep and Gorgo?"

"They went down to the village. There's a Christmas market. To quote Imhotep, they find Christmas 'quaint'." Tony stood up abruptly and clapped his hands. "Now, let's get down to business." He indicated the pile of wedding gifts that occupied a large space on the buffet. "I've been dying to unwrap them for hours."

Evey hesitated. "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, Wal doesn't care about the presents. He never did. I always opened his stuff on his birthday when we were younger. Pretty please?" Merlin, he looked like a kid on Christmas day - which, admittedly, was only a few days away.

"Alright, you can pick one. We'll open the rest later."

Tony practically bounded on the buffet and proceeded to sort through the packages.

"We didn't get you anything," Silverclaws said. Evey started, 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 records, if you want. I have copies of everything."

"Seriously? That's amazing! Thank you." She got up to hug him.

The Wolf stiffened, but he didn't push her away. "Your scent is truly mesmerising," he murmured.

Evey stepped back to frown at him. "I keep hearing that. What do I smell like, exactly?"

The Wolf cocked his head slightly, and his nostrils flared as he took a long whiff. "Cherry blossom." 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 that 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 a small leather pouch that had seen better days. "I'm not sure if it's a gift, but it was on the buffet…"

Evey 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?" Evey nodded. "That would be my first guess, yes. The colour is quite unique. Is there a note?" Evey upturned the pouch, but nothing came. "Not even a name? It's an advanced potion, so I doubt it was home-brewed. But it must have cost a fortune! Even a teensy vial like that must be worth hundreds of Galleons."

Evey shook her head. She had no idea who'd thought of this incredible gift, but it would certainly prove useful in the future, when Greyback came to reclaim her, or in battle against Voldemort and his cronies.

With luck, perhaps no one would have to die. Again.