over the hill, now: a downward race

[Rodolphus Lestrange]

there ain't no room for me in the city
the lights go down but it look so pretty

It would be a slight exaggeration, of course, but one could go so far as to say that Rodolphus hated parties more than he hated Muggles. The morning had started out cheery enough, with the birds singing and the sun shining and Rodolphus had retreated into the bowels of the house, making sure that he couldn't see what was in front of him, let alone the flight of stairs he had to make his way down. He had raged at the servants for an hour or two, but it hadn't done much to improve his mood. He now sat in the basement, stroking his red handkerchief and wishing his dress shirt was too wrinkled to wear. Rodolphus couldn't remember who'd sent out the invitations, since the servants had sworn they hadn't done it, and when Rodo questioned them he was always as vicious as he could get away with. Today was not a day he wanted to be celebrating. Especially not without Bellatrix around. He hadn't seen her all day, and he couldn't remember whether she'd even been in the house the night before. Most likely not. Maybe she'd done this. Maybe she'd set up this damn get together to spite him. For what he couldn't honestly say, but somewhere along the way he must have done something to receive such torture. Of course, the transition period from the Dark Lord to the Grendel had been difficult for them, but she was supposed to be strong, that was why he'd married her, and this--this pitiful failure on her part was enough to make him storm out of the house on numerous occasions. But this party he certainly didn't deserve.

Fifty. Rodolphus wanted to curl up in the cellar with the rats and let them nibble at his toes. It would have been preferable to admitting his defeat. At this point he had reached the realm of old age. The Grendel members, who had someone been invited, would think him weak, and look at him patronizingly. They would scoff at him when he couldn't remember what he'd been saying or what he'd been doing, and when he finally did remember, the whispering would start. They would smile politely and then, when they thought his back was turned, the smirks would pop onto their faces and they would say, 'see, I told you he wasn't morally sound. To think that man was Voldemort's right hand man once.' Even in his feeble state, the ability to lead had not left Rodolphus. Though his plans may be full of holes and it took him a while to process, when he was in a tight spot he never failed. He could get out of a dangerous mission in under five minutes. He could have lead the Dark Lord to victory if scum like the Dog and the Rat hadn't been in the forces. Not that the Grendel was much better. There were a few who showed promise in the group, but he wasn't happy with the leadership. Sawyer he understood, and Tanner he was sure just needed a little work, but why had such inexperienced people been put in charge. Rodolphus had been in Voldemort's inner circle. He understood how to take charge of a situation and his oratorical skills were bleak and to the point. If he were in charge, the Grendel would have had dozens of members, if not by choice, then out of fear. Rodolphus had sway, he made an impression and that was something the current leaders couldn't do.

The afternoon bled slowly into evening and Rodolphus was forced to leave the safety and solitude of the basement and crawl back into the festively decorated house. To think that the servants would be so mislead as to think that he had gone and ordered all of this. That was what they had told him, but Rodolphus was pretty sure they were just playing with him again. As always. Now that they knew he didn't always know what was going on they were always playing with him, telling him he'd said things he hadn't. Although there was a faint memory of some invitations being handed to someone at some point or another. No, the notion was completely ridiculous. He would never have had the servants hang up the black curtains and drape black streamers around the banister of the stairs. He wouldn't have made them order black balloons or hang up the 'OVER THE HILL' sign on the front door. No even his frazzled mind was too rational for that. Rodolphus stroked his red handkerchief a last time and then tucked it safely into his pants pocket. Soon the guests would be arriving and there was nothing he could do about that. He couldn't likely call it off now, could he?

Rodolphus settled himself in front of one of the windows, peering anxiously out to see whether he had invited anyone he would regret. However, no one was appearing at the gates, or at the door, and for a moment Rodolphus wondered if it had all been an elaborate prank. Somehow, the thought didn't stick for long though. The servants had been sending him terrified looks all day, which meant that they wanted to make sure everything was perfect so as to avoid the consequences. There would be a party whether it started early or late. Would he be expected to make a speech? Rodolphus smoothed down his shirt and peered out the window again. Even if he wrote something down he wouldn't remember where he'd put it. He would be the laughing stock of this party, of the Grendel. They would mock him for eternity for this and it wasn't something he was ready to accept. The ex-Death Eater stormed through the house, howling for a servant all the way and when he got to the dining room, a paper, ink pot and quill was offered to him by a sheepish maid who disappeared, while the ink pot still rattled on the tabletop. Rodolphus would have had words with her, but he was busy writing down the most coherent speech he could manage. When he was finished he tucked it into his handkerchief, hoping the red would jog his memory when the time came. Like it or not, this party would take place, and he had to make it through. For dignity's sake.

[Alyssa Avery]

-----------------------------------------

Alyssa liked parties. They were full of people, noise and dancing, with copious amounts of free drinks and an almost palpable air of excitement that put even more of a bounce in her step than usual. You could spend a whole night not worrying about anything, and if you were lucky you might even meet someone who was nice and charming and who made you feel pretty even if you were wearing the only posh dress you owned to the tenth party in a row. It was why, when an owl had appeared at her window one evening, dropping an invitation into her hand, it had taken Alyssa only moments to decide to check the ‘yes’ box on the RSVP and send it straight back. Alright, so she wasn’t entirely sure who Rodolphus Lestrange was, although the Lestranges were well known pureblood families, much as hers was – which implied that Mr Lestrange knew her brother and she’d only been invited out of courtesy or because he didn’t know that she wasn’t exactly on good terms with Freddie – but if nothing else, it was a night away from her little flat and the proof-reading she’d been lumbered with. It sounded like it was going to be a huge affair, anyway, so it wasn’t as though she’d be stuck in a room with nothing but ex-Death Eaters the whole night, surely. And if so, well, she could hold her own. It was a party; her life had been so dull of late that she wouldn’t have turned it down if she’d had to be escorted there by her brother. (If Frederick had been invited, Lyssa knew he would attend because of the appearance he had to keep up, but she could easily avoid him in a crowd of people simply by doing something vaguely embarrassing like dancing wildly – not a problem with a few drinks inside her – because then he wouldn’t want to admit they were related. It was perfectly simple, in her view.)

If she was honest, though, one of the main reasons Alyssa liked parties was because she liked to have the occasion to spend a long time dressing herself up; as a little girl, she’d been forced to attend all sorts of children’s birthday parties in hideous frilly dresses, presenting some spotty brat with a present even though just last week he’d pulled her hair and called her a rude name. Since then, though, there had been no call for it; there hadn’t really been many parties at school, and once she’d hit university they were more about getting wasted and laid than anything else. In fact, Alyssa had thought that she was never going to have the opportunity to wear the poor woman’s version of an expensive ball gown, since an actual gown on her salary wouldn’t happen even if she worked overtime for the next million years, but she’d splurged on a dress one year, just in case. And yes, she was looking forward to spending a lot of time talking and being around other people in honour of this Lestrange guy (was he the one who was married to Bellatrix Lestrange, before she died? If so, Lyssa would try to avoid him despite him being the host; Bellatrix Lestrange had had a reputation, even for someone who’d lived in the muggle world for half her life), but she wanted to wear her dress too. It looked good on her, even if she said so herself.

Despite this, Alyssa couldn’t help but feel a little flutter of nerves as she approached the rather imposing Lestrange house. Okay, so the house itself didn’t scare her, having grown up in a just as imposing manor, even if she’d not set foot there for over ten years now, but more the feeling that she was stepping into the domain of people like her brother – the sort of people she’d worked very hard to avoid since discovering how different she was from them. Alright, so she knew that Freddie wouldn’t have told any of his friends acquaintances what she was, but she still got a feeling when surrounded by purebloods that they could sense it, somehow. She didn’t act like the rest of them, something which Frederick was constantly complaining about when he barged in on her life as if he owned it (he did, really, because he could bring it crashing down around her ears with no more effort than knocking over a feather). But Lyssa wasn’t going to change how she acted; she wasn’t going to act like a rich, pompous bigot just for the sake of appearances. She had enough of an act to keep up as it was, what with pretending she could do magic and actually fit in with this circle of people.

Still, Lyssa smiled as she pulled the bell at the front door, stepping back a little to look up at the banner adorning the porch. She might not fit in, but she was good at getting along with people, and it was a party. She liked parties a lot, and there were only so many ways this could go badly. Once they were out the way, she might even have a good time.

[Dianne Arduenna]

...

Dianne checked her reflection in the mirror for what she told herself was the last time. you look fine she assured herself, flashing a smile that was somehow meant to reassure, yet she quickly stopped when evidence of her being a vampire came into view. She was quite sure the party she was attending would be rather more forgiving of her disorder, but it was better to remain inconspicuous anyhow – there was no need to draw attention to yourself just yet. Dianne grimaced, knowing being subtle wasn’t exactly her forte; if there were drinks at this party Dianne would be out of it, even if it was only ever a few glasses. Recently Dianne had taken to cutting down the amount she drank when out on a job for the Grendel (they hadn’t been too happy when their lookout had found her, slumped across the couch of a meant-to-be victim and only semi-conscious and semi-clothed), though even that was pushing her luck. Tales in books gave the impression that vampires had no limit on their alcohol consumption – this was not the case. Just one drink was often enough to get Dianne light-headed.

With a final nod toward her image and standing tall, Dianne left the house (if you could call Lucy’s place a house – it was huge. And cold) and hurried quickly toward the apparition point. Having been hunted and attacked for years, Lucy had given into her paranoia and fears by putting what appeared to be every bloody shield charm she knew over the residence. As she reached the point Dianne held out her hand gingerly, saying the password that Lucy had insisted on putting up. Immediately she could feel the magic give way – was this a pro of being a vampire, perhaps? Dianne had never taken too much attention of her limits before the transformation, so had no way of comparing. Dianne shook her head clear of those type of thoughts, knowing that dwelling on them would only send her into a spiral of self-pity and loathing – she was going to a party. She was meant to be in the mood for fun.

Rodolphus Lestrange. There was no doubt in Dianne’s mind who this man was. Once upon a time he had been the enemy – Dianne, a young auror sent from France and ready to protect her country and family, and he a Death Eater; both were ready to kill the other. How strange, that events could turn so dramatically that Dianne was now being sent an invitation to his birthday party. It was most likely due to either her connections with the Grendel or Lucy Whitbury – other than that, there had been few instances when Dianne had actually met the man. Those times they had come in contact and been with him in a mask and her shrouded in shadows – the Dark Lord hadn’t been a big fan of open spaces and lights, apparently. Dianne had always thought it resembled Phantom on the Opera too much to be a mere coincidence.

With a sharp turn on her heel Dianne emerged outside a rather striking home, or perhaps manor would be more suitable a name for the building she had just arrived at. Lucy’s place was big (heck, she lived in a castle) but this place…it just screamed importance at her. Clutching the package containing Rodolphus’ present, Dianne hurried along the long pathway toward the front door, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw another woman there. At least she wasn’t the first one to arrive. Dianne slowed down slightly, cocking an eyebrow at the banner plastered across the front of the house and was unable to resist a smile. ‘OVER THE HILL’ “He should be thankful he’s not buried under it” she muttered, before sending a polite smile to the woman stood there as she came to a stop. Maybe this wouldn’t be quite so bad.

[Fenrir Greyback]

Never in his life had he liked a job anywhere near as much as he liked working at Gladrags. Actually, Fenrir had never really worked anywhere, officially. In many ways it was the perfect occupation for him, being a shop clerk. Not only did he get to pick the hours he wanted to work, but when there were no inquisitions as to where he disappeared to every time the full moon was out. When he came into work looking a bit ragged they made a fuss of him, combing his fur neatly down and consoling him when he told them the sad stories of his life--minus the bit about being a werewolf. And the perks of the job! Oh, they were well worth every minute that a customer mistreated him, or gave him a patronizing look. No longer were his clothes tattered. No longer did Fenrir see fit to make friends with the Mud-bloods on the streets. His relationship with them was purely professional and it would stay that way, until he put his master plan into effect. Today Fenrir felt invincible, and showing up at Rodolphus' party without a care in the world certainly filled him with confidence. It had been a long time since Fenrir had even dared be in the same room as the Death Eater, let alone intrude upon the man's own house, but the invitation had found a way into his hands, and he certainly wasn't going to turn it down. Not when he was feeling so giddy.

As he approached the porch, Fenrir was surprised to see two women waiting patiently outside as if it were likely that Rodolphus Lestrange would actually invite them into his house. Fenrir gave them a cursory nod and strutted past them, laying a hairy hand on the door knob, twisting it, and walking into the foyer. He then turned and beckoned the women inside, knowing full well that sometime or other Rodolphus would find him and 'make him pay' for his rude entrance. But it didn't matter. This was his arch-nemesis's fiftieth birthday party and he wasn't going to let anything ruin that, not even the birthday boy himself. Since the Dar--Voldemort had died, Fenrir's confidence had skyrocketed. He was finally sticking up for himself, and this was his final test. If he could last a whole day right under Rodolphus's nose, he would be free from his shackles forever.

Fenny stared at the hideous decorations for a few seconds than slipped into the living room and sat down in one of the high backed chairs. Minutes later he realized that the host happened to be standing only feet from him, staring out the window, caressing a small piece of paper he held fiercely. The werewolf almost smirked at the man's fragile state, but instead merely issued a low growl and rearranged himself in the seat. Yes, indeed, this would be quite party. He could finally show the man he wasn't just the ragged dog that bowed to everyone in his presence. It seemed perhaps that Greyback had gotten the better of his human counterpart, lending him the much needed confidence he'd lacked previously.

[Tanner Bancroft]

Today happened to be the day that Tanner had off from all the annoying people at work and some of the paatrons who frequented the ashwinder inn. Tanner was happy though that alot of them were purebloods. He didn't know very many Mudbloods who dare venture into such a pub. It seem however that there were alot more mudbloods were entering due to the dark lord's untimely demise. Little did some of them know that they had a cold-blooded iller serving them drinks. Tanner had just awoken from a long deserved sleep. Today was one of the days he somewhat regretted. Today was the day of Rudolphus' fiftieth birthday party. Tanner was surprised when he recieved the owl asking to RSVP. Tanner figured it had to due with the house elves. He never pegged Mr. Lestrange as the one to host parties. He definitely knew it wasn't Bellatrix. She wasn't into extravagant get togethers. Tanner pulled out his wand and summoned his best party robes from his wardrobe. Today was also good because, It was the chance he could have to act more like a pureblood. Most everyone already mistook him for one anyways so he would fit right in.Tanner also loved a good time, He was leary though because he was unsure if there would be aurors there tonight, he highly doubted it. The Lestranges didn't invite aurors of any sort to anything they did.

Tanner put on his robes and walked out into the cool air. He could easily tell that it was fall. The colors and temperature told him this was so. Tanner once again pulled out his wand "Accio coat" Tanner muttered because he felt no need to walk back inside for something so trivial as a coat. Once the coat had been summoned to him, he put it onand disapparated to the Lestrange mansion. It was something he expected, big fancy and boasted of pureblood status, not that Lestranges need to broadcast that. Spend five minutes with them and you were well aware of who was the superiors. Tanner's little cottage, was the only thing left of his mother's side of the family he had left, He didn't care that it didn't boast of pureblood status.

Tanner landed with a gentle pop outside the mansion of the Lestranges. He saw as he stood there for a minute a figure he hoped he would never see again, Fenrir Greyback. The mangy beast had waltzed right up to the the Lestranges like he owned it, Tanner also saw the mangy mongrel opne the door and walk inside. Tanner figured he walked inside and follow the beast. How dare he defile the wonderful home of the Rudolphus by just waltzing inside. As Tanner walked up the walkway following Fenrir, he saw two more figure gracing the doorstep. One of whom he wan't surprised to see, The little puppet for the grendel, Dianne.

The other onemade his blood boil and almost ruined the party, Alyssa Avery. Just because she was the sister of Freddie Avery, why was she invited to an event certain to filled with ex-death eaters and grendel members. The unexpected invitation of Alyssa, put every chance of discussing Grendel matters to rest. Tanner turned to Dianne and said in very low tone of voice"I'm surprised Lucy let you of the castle Especially after probably finding you passed out after your failure." Tanner Then turned to Alyssa and gave alittle Sneer. Maybe she would figure that she wasn't welcome, as far as Tanner was concerned. Tanner waltzed in similiar to what Fenrir did earlier. "Sorry for the intrusion Rudolphus, but it appears to me that a stray has entered your house uninvited, Would you like me to escort him out? I also feel i should tell you that you have two young lady's on doorstep." Tanner said with the utmost politeness to the host of the house. He also gave alittle bow, He knew it wasn't necessary but was showing some politeness to having been invited here. Tanner an evil grin as he referrefd to Fenrir as a stray.

It was somewhat well known how he felt about the beast. He didn't even see why he was allowed into the death eaters, let alone the grendel. Tanner was ust a leader and if Sawyer had saw fit to allow Fenrir in the group he saw no reason for him to voice disapproval. He just failed to see what a monster like fenrir could do to help their cause besides infect others. Tanner stood quietly waiting to addressed by their beloved host.

[Frederick Avery]

Freddie checked the clasp on his cape once again, ensuring it was securely in place and wouldn’t fall from him at any point during the night. Not that he would be outside for long, but for Freddie this cape would make for great dramatic effect; enthralling onlookers as he swung it from his shoulders and tossed it casually aside, he would pretend not to notice how it had been made from the highest quality materials, a deep purple silk lining the inside. Having it fall gracelessly to the ground just wouldn’t do for image. Frederick knew the importance of body language, knew how it could give off subtle clues about what you were thinking. The other Grendel members, even the leaders, would all make a big show and dance regarding the fact they had complete control over the expressions in their face – they would attempt to have control anyway. Though if you were to be given the honour of having it said that you could control yourself, then that meant your anger and hate too, in Frederick’s opinion. No one emotion was less than another when it came to the consequences of having become victim to it. And after all, Freddie’s opinion was the opinion.

A rather energetic twirl later (turning the cape just so) and he had arrived just beyond the borders of the Lestrange residence – Freddie had always imagined the family living somewhere a little less comfortable, especially since the Ministry tended to reclaim the fortunes of captured Death Eaters – apparently this one had either escaped their notice simply by error, or the pair had been as paranoid as ever and hidden this one asset far from the Ministry radar. Freddie suspected the latter; for what many assumed to be a negative aspect of one’s personality, paranoia did serve its function well.

Wand tucked safely away in its holster and a rather expensive tasting wine (and of rather high percentage also) swinging from his grasp, Freddie made his way up the long path leading to the Manor with a spring in his step. He supposed the walk from there to Lestrange’s home was in order for any protective spells or traps to spring into action, and Freddie was for a moment quite glad he had never made an enemy of the family. A nuisance of himself, certainly, but he had never imagined it coming down to the level of hate. Unless Freddie had a shorter life expectancy than others, doing such a thing would be rather counter productive on his part. Ah, here he was. With a frown, Freddie realised so was his sister. Now that was something he hadn’t counted on, though Freddie was determined not to let it ruin his evening. He was at a party – dance, wine, music, wine, talking, win-…

At least he thought it was a party; the black hangings decorating the place suggested otherwise. Frederick stood just beyond the door, stepping aside to allow the two women at the doorstep through first – he had already witnessed Tanner push past them (his sister, an Avery, nonetheless), particularly rude of him; not that he had expected much more. Freddie had been researching up the man, just as he had done to Freddie, and so far had uncovered little suggesting a Pureblood heritage despite the claims. It was no bother to him at the moment, but Frederick made a note to continue that search for later use – he may not intend to approach Tanner, but should their relationship become difficult…it was always handy to have something on the side for persuasive techniques.

"Sorry for the intrusion Rudolphus, but it appears to me that a stray has entered your house uninvited, Would you like me to escort him out? I also feel i should tell you that you have two young lady's on doorstep."

“And as Head of Beast Division, I also feel it imperative to remind you of the legislations surrounding the code of conduct in regards to werewolves, Mister Bancroft. We’ve been rather successful in tackling those tedious anti-werewolf acts in the past year, would you believe?” this was all casually thrown in from Freddie’s position against the doorframe, his very presence nothing but of someone looking to help. Or it would have been, if not for that damn smile thrown in at the last second, just for good measure – it would be a shame if Freddie had missed this opportunity to rile up the man. It was the truth though – the new Minister had made it one of his top agendas to embark upon a mission to begin equality among everyone, despite numerous protests. Voldemort had in fact made tighter restrictions on the rights of werewolves and other Beings. Despite himself, Freddie would go along with this new approach – the Beast Division had always been known as the rougher of the three departments when it came to magical creatures, and he had made a real attempt in quelling that. It was better to make a friend of the new man leading Britain than an enemy; he may be a Grendel, but there was no way Freddie was going to cut off contact from other influential circles.

That being said, Freddie took a quick glance at the other female in their presence – her kind had nothing to do with him, instead being taken care of by the Beings Division. At least they had it slightly better than other creatures. Frederick poked his head inside, leaning his weight on his arms as the swung from the frame (that would come back to bite Freddie if Lestrange caught him) and gazed around the room. “The decorations are -” Drab, Dull, Gloomy, a complete and utter Disaster…? “-lovely” he finished, a grin appearing on his features as he waved the wine bottle in the air, his eyebrows running the risk of having a life of their own as they danced around.

[Wilkie Twycross]

he’s got the shakes now, a breakdown is in the making
time for all in or get out, there’s no more faking
he’s had the room and he’s deserved it, but now he’s looking nervous

Women. With their attitudes, their fancy clothes, their superior attitudes, and they way they looked right through him because he didn’t quite fit into the socially adept category. Last night had seen the advent of seven rejections; Wilkie had had a most beautiful, drunken sleep, and upon waking up in the morning, had found his eyes swimming as he tried to get his feet to find the floor. And then of course, there’d been Rodolphus’ birthday invitation staring at him from the window. A party with the man who couldn’t even bring himself to say one n ice thing about Wilkie, even though he’d done everything he could to please him. But at much as Wilkie wanted to ditch the party, there was no longer any possibility of that. Once you were in the Grendel, you had better be at every meeting, under the disguise of birthday or not, otherwise, most likely, you might not be waking up the next day. Wilkie refused to dress formally, pulling a faded tangerine-colored shirt over his head, tossing on a pair of fresh-out-of-the-wash black jeans. Not that it really mattered what he looked like since no one of extreme importance would be there. Except Sawyer. And if she was there, unfortunately, so would Tanner.

Men. If women weren't the source of his discomfort, it was men. In truth, Wilkie was always in some type of discomfort. He tried to escape from it, the discomfort, but it always caught up with him no matter what he did. And with people like Tanner, it was a constant affair. Because he couldn’t escape Tanner, because Tanner was his boss now, because he was in the same, small member-base organization, there was hardly any time he could get without Tanner being there to make him feel uncomfortable. Not that his discomfort manifested itself any differently than it usually did, but he did feel significantly less able to express himself than when the man wasn’t around. Wilkie apparated to the mansion after pulling his nerves together and stood awkwardly in the foyer, eagerly peering about for Sawyer in as nonchalant a way as he could, which of course, happened to be quite obvious. At least he hadn’t yet run into Rodolphus, the one person he hoped to avoid, but which of course would be impossible to slip past all day. He left the foyer and entered the room with the most voices, wishing he hadn’t worn his orange shirt and had favored a black one instead. It would have been much easier to blend in with the attire of all the morbid people in the room.

Upon entering, Wilkie almost guffawed; as it was a dangerous smirk flitted across his lips as he watched Tanner be chided by the Avery guy. The subject in dispute, Fenrir Greyback, stood off to the side and for the pure pleasure of making Tanner squirm, he made his way over to the beast, lounging next to him and nudging him softly on the arm. ”Guess you feel a bit like a celebrity, huh?” Not that he meant in any way to make nice with the werewolf, but at least the two outcasts had something in common, more similarities than most of the people at the party. Besides, as far as he could tell, which wasn’t much with his eyes trained on the ground, Sawyer wasn’t around for him to impress. Wilkie scuffed his foot along the floor and waited for everything to start crashing down around him. As usual his passive personality swam between him and any type of fun he could have at such a gathering. If only he had remembered his booze.

[Theodore Nott]

Theodore stared at his reflection in the mirror, his hands clenched on either side of the sink. In the darkness of the bathroom, he could just make out his facial features and the contour of his bare body. Loosening his cramped grip of the marble fixture, Theodore slowly lifted one unsteady hand and ran it along his chin. The day old stubble was evidence of his self-inflicted isolation: it had been awhile since he last stepped foot outside. Grabbing the shaving cream he smeared it carelessly across his face and fumbled momentarily in the darkness for his wand. The shaving was done with quickly but Theodore did not move an inch from his spot in front of the mirror. Searchingly his eyes slid down his body, then back up to his face. Theodore took a sharp breath.

He was eighteen years old now, out of Hogwarts and had spend the last few years ducking and dodging an enrolment from the Death Eaters, only to join The Grendel by own free will when reality hit him. He did not carry the dark mark yet society wanted nothing to do with him. They saw him as a killer, yet he had not killed or tortured, not even broken a rule in his life. They saw his father in him, yet he had by no means followed in his father’s footsteps. But things had changed since he was in school. The death of his father had shaken Theodore to the core and made him realise what a coward he had been, hiding behind crafty excuses and lies. He was a man now, the only living Nott. It was his duty to avenge his family, no matter the cost, and Grendel was the best tool for this. Letting out his breath and possibly all of his determination, Theodore’s shoulders slumped, and he bowed his head.

So now he stood feeling feeble in body and soul, trying to pull himself together so that he could look like a somewhat respectable wizard for a birthday party. Theodore felt as if he was getting ready for a trial. He had to stand before old Death Eaters and the new Grendel, and they would no doubt size him up, see if he had it in him to fight - see if he was his father’s son. A shudder went through Theodore’s body. Suddenly his mouth felt incredibly dry. Although a great effort, the young Grendel finally got in his dark green robes and once again found himself in front of the mirror: with lights on this time. Reaching out for the tin of pomade that stood on the sink, Theodore dug two fingers into the waxy substance and rubbed it between his hands. His dark brown hair had never been long, not even when he was a child, but now it reached below his ears. From a proper Slytherin to a mess of a man, and he hardly cared. Theodore ran his hands through his hair, slicking it back, never breaking eye contact with his reflected self.

How solemn he looked in dark robes and how fitting for this birthday. The celebrated, Rodolphus Lestrange, had reached his expiry date and all of the Grendel's would be there to mock his decay. They would probably all show up in black to purposely make associations to a funeral, except for those guests who were unaware of the private joke and would be small splashes of colors. Theodore could not bear to join in on the scorning of a man much similar to his own father. Both were defeated in the cause they had given their lives for and who knew, soon Lestrange could be lying underneath the dirt as well. But it was not like Theodore had planned to speak there in the first place; no he would be a wallflower today and avoid a whole lot of people he felt nothing but indifference towards. Theodore closed his eyes and apparated. When he opened them again a clammy wind swept past and whirled up the leaves on the ground.

The Lestrange mansion: a more gloom place could hardly be found. Theodore eyed the place warily. Before moving as much as an inch he checked that his wand was securely placed in the pocket of his robe, just in case there was any disagreement. The small wrapped gift was in his other pocket; an antique pocket watch. The cover was silver, a green snake entwined the initials R. L., one blood red ruby for its eye. When you opened it there was no glass to cover the hands of the clock but there was no need for it either; everything seemed to float and work it did, driven by an invisible force. The watch was simple and cold but when it landed in the hands of its new owner it would without a doubt be expressive. The wizards of the Lestrange family needn’t not be richly or overwhelmingly adorned to infuse respect (or fear, however you want to put it).

How Theo made it all the way from the road to the living room of the house, he could not say but here he was, standing in the middle of what seemed already to be a battleground. There was Lestrange who looked tired, two females he did not recognize, Fenrir with smugness painted all over his face, Tanner ever humble, Frederick too grinning, too tactless, too much of everything really, and then the sickly looking Twycross who Theodore remained indecisive about. His eyes swept dully across every one of them before settling on the man of the hour, Lestrange. Paying his regards by a nod towards the old man, Theodore withdrew to window where he meant to observe them all silently.

[camilla]

Today was the day Lucy had been dreading for weeks. It was the birthday of one of the most hated purebloods in all the world, Rudolphus Lestrange. Lucy never truly hated anyone, that was until she found out about the Lestranges. They were the kind of pureblood that gave the others a bad reputation. If it wasn't bad enough the believed in pureblood supremacy they had to join the group bent on trying to purify the race. Lucy had rsvp'd to the party because she knew that Dianne was more than likely going to go. She felt the need to go and keep an eye on the young vampire.

Lucy did herhair slightly and waited for the younger vampire to head to the party. After half an hour or so Lucy left for the party. She easily got passed the security measures. SHe walked the few miles to the party. It wasa very tiring walk for the older vampire. SHe wasn't used to walking long distances anymore. She saw Dianne walk up the Lestrange driveway. Lucy followed closely behind but stayed in the shadows. Her many years as a vampire haer taught her the skill of hiding in the shadows. She stood in the shadows of in the distance from Dianne. she COuld tell from the guests that had shown up that tempers were on edge and that tonight she would have to be on gaurd and mind her manners and stay in unseen. This wouldn't be too difficult for her. The onlyhard thing would be probably all the muggle putdown she would likely hear tonight. She wasn't sure she could hold her tongue.

[Rodolphus Lestrange]

strange maze, what is this place?
i hear voices over my shoulder; nothing's making sense at all

[/size][/center]

He had been lost a long time. Perhaps even before he'd lost Bella. Maybe even before his mind had dissipated. Rodolphus had trouble pinning to one distinct occasion. Though he supposed it didn't really matter when he had lost his rationality so much as the effects it had had on him. The man stared with hollow eyes at the guests he had not invited to a party he had not thrown, and knew, somehow, instinctively, that no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he had helped the servants hang up the banner in the hallway. This was absurdity, however, even if he had wanted it (probably thinking it would do him some good to torture himself); he had invited each and every person who he loathed. Not only that, but he had invited along the imbeciles who believed they were his his bosses. As if Mr. Lestrange would take orders from anyone, except perhaps Bella, and now that was out of the question as she was surely off powdering her nose or screaming at the servants. Or, as the infrequent, rational pea-brain within his greater mind prompted him, buried under the dirt in the back yard.

Silly boy. Silly men. Silly women. All these silly people in his living room, in his hallways, peering into his kitchen. They'd invade his house and as soon as he approached them, they flitted away, as if they were terrified (as they should have been), as if they were humoring him. Rodolphus sauntered out of the living room and up the stairs to cower behind the banner. He spied on them, his guests, the people he thought were there to wish him well, though he really knew they all wanted him rotting, buried out in the back next to Bella where he wouldn't bother them anymore until the rains beat down and washed the thin layer of soil off his deteriorating body and disrupted their mayhem. And indeed, what would happen when he was gone, would they forget the way things had been when he was around? No, Rodolphus knew what would happen. The pansies. All of them would forget what it meant to be fierce and horrible, and incapable of showing mercy. Yes, they would all pretend they knew a thing about murdering in cold blood, but they would all back down. They would whimper and cower and when they got up in the morning they wouldn't be able to face themselves in the mirror. Once they had blood on their hands, they wouldn't be able to scrub the red away. Rodolphus could, and he wouldn't forget, no matter how addled his brain got.

Rodolphus wandered back into his living room and, after making eye contact with a young man who nodded at him, decided it was time to attempt to socialize. He followed the man over to the window and stood silently for a good five minutes, watching the lawn outside do nothing of particular interest, then cleared his throat and pulled the speech card from his pocket. "Don't suppose you'd mind if I practiced my speech with you, would you?" Rodolphus tried a smile, though it came out as more of a grimace. He made no movement to suggest that he planned on actually reading his speech aloud. Instead he remained regarding the man peculiarly. He was sure he'd seen him somewhere, at some point, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Did I invite you?" He asked, finally. The speech had ended up back in his pocket with his handkerchief, which he fingered restlessly, nervously. Would it be improper for him to sneak out of his own party?

[Alyssa Avery]

-----------------------------------------

Although she wasn’t about to complain – any party was better than no party, and there’d be people and food here, two things Alyssa didn’t get nearly enough of most of the time – Lyssa had absolutely no idea why she had been invited to this party. She was pretty much a persona non grata as far as most of the Pureblood world was concerned, and that was if they even remembered that she existed. Most of them didn’t. Occasionally, she would bump into someone from ‘before’ (before it was officially that she had no magical blood, before she was disowned by her father, before she went to the muggle world, before her brother decided that he didn’t want to disown her after all, before, before, before), and she could actually see them register the fact that there was another Avery they’d not been aware of, and then the realisation spread across their face as they tied her up to the little girl who’d had play dates with every child her own age from a proper sort of family – Alyssa guessed that they assumed she’d died or been sent to Beauxbatons or something like that. She didn’t much care what they thought; there were a few exceptions, but the majority of Purebloods – at least the sort that her family had associated with – were bigoted, stuck-up snobs. She was better off out of that world...which didn’t explain why she’d received an invitation. Nobody but her brother knew where she lived now, tucked away as it was in the muggle part of London, so that she could feel as though she had a foot in both worlds, and she’d never met Mr Lestrange. That probably wasn’t true, as it was highly likely that he’d attended one of her mother’s functions back in the day, but Alyssa had been a child then. She wasn’t a child now; she’d had to grow up fast. Your family considering you to be a disgrace and having to make your own way in the world because nobody cared about you tended to help with that.

Not that Alyssa minded. She might hate her family, and be terrified of her brother (while simultaneously wanting his approval), but she was happy with where she’d ended up. She was still trying to find where she belonged, but she was twenty-three years old; she thought that most people her age were looking for that too. Just because she’d not attended Hogwarts, or she couldn’t make birds appear from the end of a piece of wood, it didn’t mean that she didn’t have a place. She just needed to find it. But she had a job that she loved, and a home that was hers, and friends from uni that she still wrote to (not by owl, though, it had to be said—Lyssa thought they’d find that extremely confusing). It could have been a lot worse. She could have been living with Freddie for a start, and that was something Lyssa couldn’t even think about. She’d hated that house, and to be back there – he wasn’t even going to get her to go round for tea. He probably didn’t want that, seeing as he liked to be the one to drop in unexpectedly and catch her in one of her mad, writing-on-walls moments (it gave him the power in the relationship, although Lyssa thought that was stupid as it was obvious he was the powerful one, even if he was the only person still alive who could intimidate her every time she saw him), but she wouldn’t have gone anyway. The Avery Mansion had far too many bad memories for her, and though her past was part of who she was, she didn’t need to reawaken those feelings. It wasn’t as though she was the stereotypical Pureblood, anyway. She wasn’t even sure she counted as a Pureblood; she was just a stupid, dirty Squib. Her father had drummed that into her pretty well.

“He should be thankful he’s not buried under it”

Even dirty squibs could enjoy themselves, though, especially if nobody around knew of their inability to do magic. Lyssa giggled at the muttered comment by the woman who appeared at her side – apparently someone else who was not bosom buddies with their mysterious and as yet invisible host, her laugh silencing as somebody pushed past her into the house. Of course; Tanner Bancroft, who loathed her for the way she could be so muggle and yet an Avery. He was one of Freddie’s little lap-dogs, dancing round him and sucking up at every opportunity. People like him made her sick. “Nice to see you too, Tanner,” she said cheerfully, her voice too loud for the house – it seemed to be more of a wake than a birthday celebration, especially with the decorations adding to the...dreary effect. “You’re not going to insult me or threaten to tell on me this time? Shame.” She resisted sticking her tongue out at the man’s back – she wasn’t a child, after all, however much her brother treated her like one – and wandered through to what she assumed was where the party was being held. Huh. Some party. Being here was too similar to being back at her father’s – at Freddie’s – house, too much like all her bad dreams in one. There weren’t even any cheerful looking people for her to go and talk to; Alyssa was willing to admit that she’d not spent much time around Purebloods recently, but she certainly didn’t remember them all seeming like the world had ended.

Oh yeah, maybe it had, for them. Maybe they were still mourning the death of their Lord, and the idea of a celebration was one that made them want to go and kill somebody. If that happened here, she supposed she’d have a good story, which was something that seemed to have been lacking lately—as long as it wasn’t her who got killed, of course. God, this was going to be a long night, wasn’t it? Alyssa headed straight for the drinks, pouring herself a glass of wine and looking round again; there were only a few people who appeared to be her age (none of whom seemed to know the meaning of the word ‘fun’), and one of them was...her brother. Oh dear. Why was he here? Well, it was obvious, given that he was the head of one of the most prominent Pureblood families, and not in disgrace like she was, but having Freddie here was really going to ruin Alyssa’s fun. She couldn’t relax when he was around, knowing that he was watching and judging her, making her feel as though she was a little child who’d stumbled into the grown ups’ party by mistake. Maybe she needed a drink or two; if she had a drink, she could relax—and by that time, perhaps somebody else would be here to liven things up before she had to drag that cute looking boy by the window to dance (he wasn’t that much younger than she was, was he?). Yes, alcohol would do the trick just fine; Alyssa downed her glass of wine in one go, and turned round to fill it straight back up again. It was good wine; perhaps this wouldn’t be entirely terrible. Even if the party was a bust, she’d got free wine, and hopefully some free food later on.

[Dianne Arduenna]

...

‘Party’ wouldn’t be the first word to pop into Dianne’s mind when taking in the scene surrounding her. In fact, it wouldn’t be the second, the third, fourth…and so the total would continue to rise. If the setting hadn’t been bad enough with the dark banners and general moody atmosphere, Dianne would have to sit among a group of wizards and witches who very much looked liked they would prefer to see the other occupants of the room in some kind of pain. Joy. Maybe the best option to take for tonight would be to attempt to make herself as small as possible, perhaps stand in a corner somewhere with a glass of wine. Actually, if events so far were anything to go by, perhaps that should be a bottle. Make that two – one for each hand. Dianne had her own problems to deal with without having to listen to angst dwelling wizards and the sorrows in their life and how woeful it was that their Dark Lord had fallen. Well, technically her Dark Lord too, since she had been under his employment and all; in fact, it would be best to make a mental note not to mention that she would have sided with whoever offered her the best deal. Dianne couldn’t see that going down all too well with this particular crowd.

Dianne toyed with the present she had in her hands for Rodolphus nervously, wondering what the proper etiquette for celebrations (though the atmosphere seemed more suited for a funeral…) such as these; Dianne hadn’t exactly been raving in the Pureblood circle these past years, her preferred locations being the dingy, half-lit pubs in the alleys of Wizarding London – not by choice, mind you, but because the Grendel sent her there and Dianne had found it much easier in the past to find food to take away. Speak of the Devil. There Tanner was now, pushing past her. Dianne was quite happy to just let him pass – he could cause problems for her, he had caused problems for her, and she didn’t need any hassle from him today.

"I'm surprised Lucy let you of the castle Especially after probably finding you passed out after your failure."

Had she still been able to, Dianne would have flushed from the put-down Tanner handed out to her in such a casual manner. It was times like these that Dianne no longer cursed the fact that her heart no longer maintained that steady beat all human life had come to expect; not blushing was little consolation in comparison to everything that had gone on in her life, but being saved from further embarrassment certainly wasn’t a bad thing. ‘One mistake’ she muttered, her tone quiet but eyes blazing and expressing just how much she resented being ordered around by Tanner. He was her superior though, and after staring resolutely at the man for several strained seconds, Dianne let her gaze fall to elsewhere across the room, frustrated at herself for letting humans push her around; Lucy might have a buddy-buddy relationship with them, but for Dianne it was less than pleasant. ‘It wont happen again’ was all but growled as she moved away toward one of the many tables scattered around the room, placing her gift amidst what she could only assume were illegal objects. Dianne could hear the other woman hold her own against Tanner, inwardly wishing she were in a position where she could also take him down a peg or two. If only. If age had taught her anything, it was that sometimes it was important to send pride running and just deal with anything life threw at you. Dianne needed the Grendel, she needed their resources and their protection and anything else they were offering. Angering one of their leaders wouldn’t put her in their list of favourite people right now, and that wasn’t what Dianne needed.

[Fenrir Greyback]

you will tire of me
as this december sun is setting

For once it seemed Fenrir was quite pleased to be attending a party. The pale man was right, he did feel rather like a celebrity, and he did like the attention he was getting, both the negative and the positive. Still, it was a lonely party, and Fenrir, after offering Freddie a thankful nod, headed for the liquor with nothing left to do. He was here; he had proved he belonged. Now he was going to drink with them, the fakers and the pretentious snots, and maybe, just maybe he would slip out early, without anyone really noticing he was gone, or that he had been there at all.

He was, however, forced to reevaluate his plan when he caught sight of the equally out of place woman downing her wine like, well, like she was surrounded by a pack of wolves. Fenny tried to walk as casually as he could without making it seem forced, but was sure he failed miserably. When he reached the table, he slid the empty bottle from her hand, giving it a telling shake and smiling at her without showing his teeth. "Did a number on that one, did you? At least you know what to drink." He winked at her and opened another bottle of wine, pouring her a glass before he served himself. However long this conversation lasted, at least it was something to do with his time. "I'm Fenrir Greyback, but call me Fenny." And then the teeth came out, involuntarily. The wolf whimpered slightly and his grin faded as he began to drink.

"This is a pretty boring party." He shook his sadly. Why had he ever agreed to come here and sit through this torture. Fenrir hoped she wouldn't wander away, but he was pretty sure that was going to be the case. "You know what it needs, besides beautiful ladies like yourself..." he blushed. "Sorry. That was out of place." For a few awkward moments he said nothing, then finally he cleared his throat and began again. "This party really needs a game. Like 'Pin the tail on the donkey' or 'Blind man's bluff.'" Then again, what this party really needed was someone relatively interesting. For all he knew, and Fenny fancied he knew quite a bit about it, there were hundreds of dark wizards with some unusual trait lurking about outside having the time of their lives, and here they all were stuck in a dead house, with a near-dead man, and dead personalities. It was by far, the worst party he had ever been to.

[Tanner Bancroft]

Tanner walked past the sneers of Alyssa and Dianne, the good thing was that at least Dianne knew how to listen and respect her superiors. He saw Dianne enter the mansion. He approached, "I honestly hope for your sake Dianne you won't screw up your next mission,or else i see no reason for keeping you on the team. I would hate to have to dismiss you." Tanner said slowly letting the phrasehit home having Dianne grasp the seriousness behind his voice. He figured she knew full well what would happen to those who messed up too often. The grendel worked in complete secrecy and if word was to get out by someone making a mistake, that would ruin the whole reason for their exsistence.

Tanner understood he was one of most disliked men in the room. The older ex death eaters hated him because they didn't see him as their leader. The Alyssa woman hated just because he disliked the way she was friendly with muggles which went against everythig her family believed. Tanner spotted the guest of honor, he went approached Lestrange. He knew it was a foolish thing to do but he felt brave and went to talk to husband of his hero. "I'm sorry for the loss of Bella. I'm not going to pretend to friends with you Lestrange but I came to wish you Good luck on your birthday, I hope you will be around for any more years. We need some one like you, who has your skills in handing out death." Tanner said calmly and not showing the slightest bit of fear. He bowed slight to show respect for the older wizard, afterall Rudolphus could kill him without batting an eyelash.It didn't mean however that Tannerwouldn't put up a pretty good fight, Especially after fighting Bellatrix in the ashwinder inn.

Tanner looked bravely at Rudolphus. He could tell the wizard didn't enjoy the company in his house. He went back to a table and summoned a glass of wine to him. Tonight wouldn't be a total loss and if Rudolphus wished to speak with him, Tanner made it easy for him to be located. Tanner looked around to all the people who hated him. He could Fenrir, Alyssa, Dianne, a figured who resembled Lucy. The only person he saw who would tolerate him was Freddie. Then again Tanner didn't completely trust the man he knew deep down that when, if it came to unveiling members, Freddie would peg Tanner in heartbeat. If there was anything the death eaters taught him it was trust no one even your coworkers, you never know who could betray you. He knew this to be true with belated Peter Pettigrew. No one seemed to miss that rat and for good reason he served no true purpose except housekeeper, that was the job of lowly house Elves and no one would want that job.