Regulus Wondered Whether Rabastan Being Able To Cast Off The Curse So Easily Was Due To The Advance Warning

"I don't have cheese fondue nearly as often as I want to. Unfortunately I haven't convinced my five year old son that cheese fondue is delicious yet, so my recipes at home have shrunk down to kid friendly meals...which mostly means chicken nuggets," Fenrir said with a snort. "Grilled peaches and goats cheese sounds incredible. I feel like that would be good with some spice to cut through the sweetness of the peaches, some fresh chili on top perhaps. Yes, I'll owl it across to you later once my shift finishes. No point you trying to make an imitation, I don't mind sharing my recipe."

"It is one of my favorite cheeses. I always use it when I make fondue. Oh, goat's cheese is lovely, I prefer it paired with fruits or vegetables in a cold dish, rather than a main, if I'm honest. It is more of a summer cheese for me, I made a good salad with grilled peaches and goats cheese in my book that I've heard good reviews about from people that have tried it." Balsamic vinegar, leeks and goats cheese worked well together, she could see the recipe it come together in her head when he described it. "Really? Oh please, that would be lovely."

The streets of Hogsmeade would always make Cassandra feel warm and nostalgic, no matter how many years passed since she had left Hogwarts. She'd spent a small fortune in Honeydukes before heading into the Three Broomsticks where she'd settled herself in a corner near the fire with a butterbeer. Her nose was buried into a book detailing the latest in runic magic when she spotted someone approaching her from the corner of her eye. "I'm not working at the moment. If you need healing, could you speak to someone else please?" she asked without looking up.

Fenrir had finally escaped the heat of the kitchen after final orders for food had been called and had headed to the bar to pour himself a drink to cool down. Festive crowds were relentless and he'd barely had a moment to himself all day, never mind time to eat or drink something. He'd been in the middle of downing a pint of water when Thorfinn entered and made his way over to Fenrir with purpose.

Fen took the parchment and read it, committing the contents to memory before he tapped his wand against it to set the parchment alight. "Twenty minutes for me to change and eat something," he said, reaching for a bottle of vodka. He poured two shot glasses, handing one across the bar to Thorfinn. "Cheers," he said, throwing the shot back before he disappeared into the back of the pub to prepare for the mission.

where: the white wyvern who: @battle-scvrs (Fenrir Greyback) when: 19th of december, 2024

It appeared that Thorfinn was not going to be able to enjoy the rest of the night, a parchment sent that he and Fenrir had a task to handle for the Dark Lord. He knew how much of a savage the other could be, and between the two, he was certain there would be a trial of blood in their wake.

The blonde sauntered into the shop, making his way up to the bar where he sat down with Fenrir on the other side. "How much longer do you have?" He held out the parchment for him to read discretely.

At the woman's suggestion, Fenrir considered it for a moment. "Gruyere is an incredible suggestion. I did think about using a goats cheese, or a sheeps cheese to add depth I might do that for a smaller side dish rather than the main menu. Maybe some chargrilled leeks with goats cheese, a little bit of balsamic drizzle..." Fenrir would have to try it at home before he started messing about with his finely tuned menu here. "You can have the recipe if you like."

"You know which cheese could also work really well with this? A Gruyére. Or some aged red wine cheese. They have that sharpness that cheddar has but it's more layered." Talking about cheese was her favorite past time. "I'll have to try to make that at home one time. I doubt it'll be as good as yours, but I'll try my best."

Regulus was not built for crowds. Well, that was partially a lie - he could cope with crowds at pureblooded society events, where he only had to show his face for a small while before he could retreat into a quieter room with a book. Navigating festive crowds including people who would simply stop in the middle of the road and cut his stride short? Very different.

He was hoping the apothecary would be a little quieter, given they weren't known for selling gifts, but there were people who were stocking up amongst their other shopping. Having carved out a space in front of a shelf, Regulus was determined to remain unmoved even as a woman stumbled into him. His hand shot out to help steady her, even as his lips curled with disapproval. "That's okay," he muttered, hoping the woman would leave him alone now.

Clearly, his face didn't look nearly as unwelcoming as he hoped and he frowned. "This one?" Reaching for the bottle, Regulus eyed the contents curiously. "If you were to add a handful of Gurdyroot to this I think it would make the potion a bit stronger."

You could certainly tell that the festive period was fast approaching, she had never seen so many people crowding together down the small alley way. She had only to quickly go into the Apothecary before heading home. This was always one of the busiest times at the bakery, people wanting orders ready for their own festive activates. She had managed to slip in with ease, though the shop it self, was also busy. Many stocking up, ready to tackle those winter illnesses that always seemed to come.

"Shit" she mumbled, seeing the exact bottle that she needed. Elbows of others forcing him to stumble into the man next to her. "Sorry, lost my footing." she apologised.

"Though, any chance you could simply past the purple bottle over there. That is all i need to sort this headache of mine, and It seems as always, I am too short to reach the damn thing."

When the details for his meeting with his second protector had arrived, Regulus had committed the co-ordinates to memory before he had burned the parchment away. There was no use taking risks and leaving behind a paper trail of his betrayal - it would only come back to haunt him. He wasn't sure exactly who Edgar had arranged as a protector in addition to James, but he was hoping that this meeting wasn't going to haunt him the way his one with James Potter had done.

He was growing more comfortable with the deception that was laying under his skin, the lies he was telling to his family and to his friends about his involvement in the Death Eaters. He would maintain the facade for as long as possible, hoping to deal as much damage as he could before he was cut off or killed. Still, there was much to be concerned about while he was still actively working for the Death Eaters whilst also providing information to the Order and that was what his assigned protection was here to assist with...or so he thought.

Apparating to the co-ordinates he had memorised, Regulus took a moment to take in the howling winds and the crashing waves against a gloomy sky. It was the sort of place that he could lose himself, if he was allowed to do so. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his spine and headed towards the seemingly abandoned shack. Raising his hand, he knocked once as a courtesy before pushing the door open anyways. "Hello?" he called out, his voice strong. "This is quite the place."

who: @battle-scvrs when: sometime ago where: an abandoned hut on a beach in Scottland

Waves could be heard crashing onto the shore like wild roaring beasts, with anger so deep and yet a yearning for something new. One glance out of the dusty window and the sight of the waves would immediately come into view. It was through walks that Hestia had found that location. Whenever solitude had been required to think more clearly the witch had found her feet carrying her away from her cottage and down to the beaches just near by, until mile after mile had past only to apparate back home. It was during those walks that she noticed the abandoned shacks and cottages. Had the waves been too high? Hestia doubted that she’d ever find an answer to that.

The hut seemed almost perfect, had become even more so after the auror had placed the spells on it. Layers upon layers now sheltered the rundown cottage from the outside world. From a mirage that caused the building to appear abandoned, even more so, no matter who was inside to shielding charms and veils that allowed none but those permitted to pass through. Anyone out there would have simply been forced to move past.

Hestia was waiting on Regulus, had arrived early enough just to make sure. It was a meeting she had requested after talking over the details with Edgar. Now, seeing the younger Black heir moving down a path like that was not something she could have seen in the cards, but the world had proven to be odder and more surprising than anything.

She twirled the wand in her hand, ready and waiting for the steps that eventually she’d be able to hear. Whatever was within her power, the witch was going to do. If this was the clue, the one thing to stopping it all, it was worth the risk. Hestia was willing to give as much as it would take.

And then, finally, she could hear some steps.

This was hell. It had to be. Some sort of sick, karmic punishment for all the harm Regulus had done. Didn't the Gods, or whatever powers may be, know that Regulus was trying to do better? Instead they offered him James fucking Potter, who was once again here to be the hero. James' stunned silence followed by the closing of his eyes led to a brief flush of relief through Regulus' bones as he thought James was about to apparate away, back to wherever Order headquarters might be and with them Edgar Bones and his stupid ideas of protection. That relief quickly died when James did not move, and Reg couldn’t help the roll of his eyes.

Blinking back at him, Regulus was aghast that James seemed most bothered about the beer. "It was getting into my socks," he said plainly. Nobody wanted wet socks, not even when faced with this situation. Taking another swig of firewhiskey for a bit of dutch courage, Regulus then settled the bottle onto the table before he gestured towards it, indicating James could take some if he wanted. "If I say no, will you forget this ever happened? Maybe you could just obliviate me right now and free us both from whatever funny business Edgar bloody Bones is doing," Reg said, staring furiously at the chair he'd been sat in as if that were the cause of all his problems. He remained rooted firmly in spot, and shrugged. "It might be hell. I think we're in hell."

If James had finished processing the scene in front of him, he did not look like it. Frozen to the spot, he didn't react – not to the clatter of the glass as it hit the table, not to the fervid string of words let out by Regulus. That all-too familiar ringing in his ears seemed to reverberate around the entire room, drowning everything else out, until it became so loud he had to close his eyes for a moment to stop the overstimulation. When he opened them again, he was still standing in the very same room at the Hog's Head. For some reason, he'd half-expected to be somewhere else. James realised Regulus must've said something to him, for all was suddenly quiet, waiting for a response.

"You cleaned up the beer?" It was the first thing he noticed. There was something oddly amusing about that. His weary eyes lingered on Regulus and the bottle that he was currently drinking from. What the fuck was happening right now? He'd never felt so confused in his life. Suddenly, he remembered why he was here, and snapped back to reality. "It's you? You're the double agent? What the ever-loving fuck, Reg?" He stared at him as if this would give him any sort of clarity. "I feel like I'm going mental. Is this a dream?"

Taking a deep breath as Edgar said that he too had no idea what came next, Regulus fought against the wave of anxiety that was telling him he’d made a mistake. His need for self-preservation was fighting against the conscience that Edgar had poked and prodded at, and he could almost feel his cousin over his shoulder whispering that if he killed Edgar now, nobody would ever know what they had spoken about and he could go back to how things had always been.

Brushing off that lingering darkness knowing that it would take a lot of work to dismantle his teachings and beliefs, Regulus nodded slowly. “Hiding until the war is over, with no end in sight….” He murmured, clearly unhappy at the prospect. “Mr Bones, I respect your optimism…I fear that you don’t know quite what you’re up against. You are working against hundreds of years of deeply ingrained prejudice, and a well organised, well funded, efficient army of people who believe they are right. I hope that the Dark Lord doesn’t win, merlin knows I hope that more than ever now, but I do not want to leave you with false hope. These people are ruthless, determined, and they will not hesitate to kill. Unless you have people on your side that are willing to get their hands as dirty as the Death Eaters, you may not win. But I suppose we have to try.”

Reg still wasn’t sure how much he trusted Edgar Bones, but he had little other choice. “As small as possible, please. And if possible, can I request that the protection offered is purebloods? Not through prejudice, but it is easier for me to talk off if someone were to spot them hanging around me in the meantime. If it’s not possible, I understand…and I appreciate the offer of protection, whoever it is,” he said, a tinge of gratefulness in his tone. “I will keep you updated. May I leave? The Department of Mysteries will be expecting me to catch up on the time I've missed."

This was new territory for Edgar and the last thing he wanted to do was to make false promises and then watch it all blow up in his face. Regulus didn't deserve that and if he was going to trust him, and vice versa, it was best to be honest from the start.

"I don't know how this arrangement will look. All I can promise is that we will work our best to keep you protect and try to give you some life. It might mean hiding for some time, until this war is over, but after we have won, because we will win, you will have your life to do as you please." Good always prevailed over evil.

He nods his head. "It will be." This was a start and he was eager to put some balance back in the universe. "We will keep it to those that need to know. We will meet tomorrow and I will bring you will be watching over you. They will be in the shadows at all times." He could understand needing more time to say by to his family in his own way. "When you are ready to leave that life fully behind, then we will move to the next step."

"Oh, my kind have plenty of manners...that doesn't mean I do. We are not all one big werewolf with a hive mind, you are aware of that right? Merlin, what do they teach in that school?" Fenrir asked, closing the door behind Alecto. Every interaction he seemed to have with this woman was laced with bitterness and sarcasm, though he had to admit that he respected her taste for sadism.

Bristling at her judgment of his home, Fenrir rolled his shoulders before he sprawled across the couch - the picture of casualness. "Ah, we can't all have centuries of pureblooded wealth and handed down homes to live in. If it were just me, I'd be quite content in the caves...perhaps I should move back there, I'm less likely to have practically unannounced visits from witches," he said, eyes resting on Alecto.

"I know Angus. Our paths don't cross often, but I know him. What information are you looking for? And why?"

"Here I thought your kind had manners, but I suppose that was a mishap on my part. Do forgive me." A tight smile pulled on her features and she made her way up the stairs into the open door. "I am a witch, very observant of you." Alecto respected what Fenrir could do in a battle, and followed what the dark Lord wished, but otherwise, she found him useless.

Alecto wandered down the hall, turning when she found what was the living area. "How...quaint." With the flick of her hand, wand out, a fire started in the fireplace and she sat in the chair closest to it. "A lot of people seemed to miss their invitation. From what I remember it was our day, not anyone else's."

The witch waited until he came in. "I need to know what you may knw of Angus MacMickey. The Scottish leader."

Kingsley loved his nephew more than life, but it was no understatement to say that Jasper was something akin to a hurricane. He loved spending time with him, but that sometimes came at the expense of quality time with his sister too and when Sade was on the verge of making a crucial decision that put her at significant risk, Kingsley was glad of the private time. He settled back into the sofa, his eyes following Sade as she passed before she disappeared from view. With her gone, Kingsley pulled his wand from his pocket and cast a few extra protection spells and wards over the home - he did it regularly, but it never hurt to ensure they were still holding up well.

"Work's busy but what's new when we're trying to chase Death Eaters down. I feel like between work and Order stuff, I never really get a chance to switch off or come and see you...but I'm trying to be better," he said earnestly, taking his mug. "How are you? I wanted to talk to you actually about the Order."

Sade always enjoyed when Kingsley called round, usually when Jasper was awake, they barely had a minute to catch-up. Now that Jasper was asleep, it felt like the perfect opportunity for a cup of tea and a much needed catch-up with her brother. Sade had been trying juggle Jasper, her return to work and attempt to increase her role within the order. It seemed like the pair were passing ships. Pushing herself off of the sofa, Sade patted Kingsley on the shoulder as she passed. "No, don't worry. I can pop on the brew."

"How are you?" Sade called into the living room from the kitchen, tapping her wand against the teapot. Boiling the water in an instant, she grabbed her and Kingsley's mug, and made the tea. "I feel like it's been forever."