Prologue

August 10th, 2032

A flash of green light illuminated the trees surrounding the clearing. Three cloaked and masked figures emerged from the darkness. Two of them lowered their wands. Two of the three Muggles fell over dead, the third hunched over, cowering with his hands above his head.

One - the tallest and more slender of the three- stepped over to the makeshift altar, inspecting a goat head and a knife. The next, slightly shorter and of bigger build looked down at the Muggle with a cocked head. He squatted down in front of him and used his wand to turn the boy's head back and forth, inspecting him. "Incarcerous," he muttered, and conjured up bindings for the Muggle's hands, and pulled him to a standing position. The third - shortest of the three was busy inspecting a pentagram made from twigs in front of the altar.

"Where do they come up with this stuff?" The taller one asked, picking up a black leather bound book with runes on the front. "It's gibberish."

"As a Dark magic practicing wizard, I am offended," the middle one said.

"Gibberish?!" The Muggle finally found his voice. "It's the word of the holy-" The middle one shoved his wand up under the double chin of the Muggle. It made him stop talking. He had seen what those people could do with those sticks… how did they get such power?

The tallest was reading the book now, his curiosity had gotten the best of him. "According to this, you can use crystals to harness and maximize your magic."

"And here I thought this was used to beat someone with, you've enlightened me, Scorpius," the middle one bent down and picked up a black painted stick with a purple crystal glued on the top. Copper wire wrapped around the stick and onto the crystal. Bits of hot glue strings still hung off of it. The middle one whacked the Muggle across the back of the head with it.

The shortest shook his head, pushing around the sticks with his boot. "We need to get this cleaned up."

"Have some fun, Rhys," the stockier one snapped, but stood up anyways. He chucked the Muggle wand into the river that ran parallel to them.

"I'd rather not die, thanks," Rhys hissed back, aiming a kick at a rock towards the other's head. It missed by a fraction of a hair in a bush nearby, where a bunny went skipping out and into the other edge of the clearing. The stocky one gave him a look of disbelief as though one of his best friends would really try and send him to the hospital.

The three of them grouped back together and raised their wands, waving them. The makeshift altar and goats head disappeared, in it's place a giant fire was being built. The two Muggle bodies rolled away into the water. Without warning, others in black cloaks began to apparate in around them. They stood in a circle around the fire, the light from the flames casting shadows on their wolf masks. A boy, no more than 17, stood the opposite of the three. The Muggle's mouth hung open.

Finally she appeared, black hair pulled back into a bun, her robes were a deep navy blue, black stones laid into the collar. Brown eyes swept over her followers. She couldn't see their eyes, but she could tell where they were staring. She was tall, even without her heeled boots. She crossed to the opposite end of the circle, stopping in front of the stocky follower from earlier.

"Albus," she whispered. A red tipped nail found it's way under his mask to stroke his chin. She pulled it up to look her in the eyes. "You come as sponsor for this initiate?" Albus Potter's green eyes met her brown.

"Yes," he spoke, his voice deep. She pointed back towards the boy.

"Go to him, then." Albus stepped around the fire, standing behind the boy and freeing his wand from his cloak pocket.

The Wolf Mother stepped around in front of Al. She pushed up the sleeve of her dress, a wolf with red eyes and yellow teeth glaring up at them. The boy pushed up his sleeve, revealing bare skin. Al produced a plain black dagger, and took the boy's arm, running the knife down the length of it - drawing blood. He did the same to her, over the wolf. They clasped hands, blood running and mixing together.

Albus hovered the tip of his wand over their clasped hands, a black smoke oozed from the tip and wrapped itself loosely around the arms. "Samuel Burke," he started, looking over at the boy. "Do you come here to pledge your allegiance to the Wolf Mother?"

"I do," the boy muttered. Al could tell he was being forced into this. The smoke began to darken and tighten around their arms.

"Do you pledge to give her your unwavering loyalty? To follow her to the ends of the Earth and to hell and back?"

"Yes."

"And do you, Samuel, take the mark as proof of giving your life to her?"

"Yes," his voice wavered and the smoke completely constricted around both of their arms, before disappearing as Al lowered his wand. The boy was now branded. The same wolf that occupied the arm of every other standing in the circle was now on his arm. It was red and swollen. Both of the cuts were gone, completely healed from the smoke.

Albus took a step back, tucking his wand back into his cloak. She turned around and held out her hand towards the muggle, who was still bound, now kneeling in front of Rhys and Scorpius.

"Prove it!" She shrieked. "Make up the offering."

The kid turned and looked back at Al, who gave him a nod. He raised his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light emerged from his wand and the muggle dropped dead. The crowd around him broke out in cheers. Al wrapped his arm around the kid's shoulders, pulling him into an awkward side hug.

"Keep your friends close at Hogwarts," he whispered, ignoring the fact that the kid was shaking. "Don't show anyone, don't mention it. I have someone that'll keep an eye on you. Send me an owl if you need anything."

"Thank you, Mister Potter," Samuel whispered.

"Call me Al."

1 - The Set Up

August 12th, 2032

"Oh, Merlin, Al," hands curled through black hair, and her legs shook. He raised his head from between her legs, wiping his bottom lip with his thumb.

He left her on the bed, her bare chest rising and falling. She lifted her head and watched his bare ass disappear into the bathroom. His body was dotted with various scars, mostly small. Quidditch related mishaps. The biggest was a scar radiating from his collarbone to the top of his shoulder. He had gotten that one his sixth year, a Gryffindor had shoved him into the stands and a piece of wood had found its way in the most inconvenient spot, as Al would say. The second largest was a surgical scar on his side, he had his appendix removed Christmas of his second year. A tattoo could be seen on the inside of his right bicep: a black and red snake twisting its way around a rose and dagger. His nose had been broken in a Quidditch match against the Egyptian team the night before. A cut had been stitched up on the bridge, and dark bruises lay under his eyes.

He twisted on the knob for the shower and stepped in.

She couldn't see the second tattoo – that was for special eyes only. A black dog extended down his right forearm, mouth open in a snarl, red eyes glaring. It was less of a tattoo and more of a brand - a mark of membership.

Albus let the hot water work out some of the knots in his shoulder blades. He heard the toilet flush besides the shower, knowing the girl was up. Their relationship was nothing more than physical. They met at the same time every week, they fucked and he left. He knew she was telling all her friends that she was screwing Albus Potter.

"Al," she called, lightly.

"Mm?" He grunted in response, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair.

"I mean, you know the sex is amazing and all, but…"

Al cut her off by opening the shower curtain after shutting off the water. "No," he responded, stepping out and grabbing the towel to wrap around his waist. He headed to the bedroom, scooping up his clothes strewn about. "I don't like you."

"Oh," she slunk back against the toilet. She pulled up her panties and watched him pull on his jeans, shirt, boots, and black leather jacket. He pushed his hair off his face and left the flat, leaving her in the bathroom.

Al grabbed the take-out bag from the girl on the other side of the counter and nodded to her. He stepped out onto the street, cradling the bag in one hand as he fished out his aviators, cigarettes and muggle lighter from his pocket. First went on the aviators, then a cigarette went between his lips and he lit it. The cigarettes and lighter went back into his pocket and he trekked the block and a half towards the Ministry.

Every week - same time and day - they met for lunch. With the rise of a dark shadow across England, and Albus' involvement… it was important for both parties to switch information as much as possible. So they met in Harry's office, surrounded by cork boards with pictures and notes pinned to it. Albus had let Harry into his apartment one night to take pictures of his armor including his mask. He had pictures of Albus' mark hanging on the boards too. His aurors asked where he got the information from, but Harry wouldn't tell them.

It was part of their agreement. Albus had come to his father the few days after he got his mark. Harry had been filled emotions. Surprised, angry, and disappointed were the most prevalent. He almost arrested his son, even, until Albus explained why he did what he did. Al saw that he was in a unique position, and like any good Slytherin, he sought to exploit it.

Albus stopped in front of the telephone booth, he took one last drag of his cigarette, throwing it to the ground and putting it out with the heel of his boot. He slid into the booth, entering the - quite literally - magic number, and stated his business. The booth began to slide down into the black marble lobby of the Ministry. Al didn't bother to take off his sunglasses as he entered the elevator and hit the button for the auror offices with his elbow.

He adjusted the food to sit more comfortably on his hip as he rode, the elevator making one stop and a young intern stepped in, her arms full of folders. He only smirked over at her, not bothering to offer a charm to help with the paperwork. She blushed and shifted awkwardly. The cool voice announced the arrival on his level and he stepped out. It wasn't long before he was at his father's door, and knocked before he entered.

A ginger head turned around and looked at him.

"Albus!" Harry said warmly, "glad you're here. I was filling Ron…."

"No, no, you did not." Albus dropped the food on top of Harry's paperwork. Harry gave an exasperated sigh, he had been working on that all day.

"No, not about that, Al. Calm down."

Ron looked at the two of them. Albus was glaring daggers at his father behind his sunglasses."Filling me on on what?" He looked around the office, and it finally clicked in his head.

Ron stood up, looking his nephew in the face. "Take off those stupid sunglasses," he took a sniff. "You stink."

Ron could feel Albus eyeing him up and down, before taking off his jacket and throwing it over the back of the chair. He took off his sunglasses and hung them on the collar of his shirt. "Better?" Harry gave a low whistle at his son's face.

"You still stink," Ron replied, looking down at his arm as though to confirm his own suspicions.

Harry had begun to get the food from the bag, passing Albus his container of Butter Chicken and rice. The tension in the air was thick, Harry could tell Ron was trying not to jump Albus, though his hand was resting on his wand in his pocket. He could tell Albus was trying not to do the same to Ron. He picked at his chicken.

"You kill people," Ron finally spat out.

"Not my strong suit," Albus replied between bites. He had other areas of expertise that the Wolf Mother had called him for. Though, they all knew Ron's accusation was true. Albus wouldn't tell Harry about the initiation process, and Harry could only guess what that meant.

"I swear to Merlin, if you hurt anyone in our family…" Ron threatened, pointing his finger at the youngest Potter boy.

"And then you'll be no better than me," Albus snapped back, "in fact, you're worse than the people you claim to hate, I hope you know that. But if you mention this to anyone, I'll be forced to take measures into my own hands." He threatened casually, taking another bite of his chicken and rice.

Harry gave Ron a pleading look. "Albus, enough. But Ron, at family functions you don't know about this - treat Al like you normally would. Ron, if you tell anyone, even Hermione… it'll ruin a lot of work. It'll put him in even more danger than he already is."

Ron made a show of checking his watch before getting up. "I got to head back to the shop," he left the office, slamming the door behind him. Harry flinched, and looked at Albus.

"I give it a week tops," Al said. "He can't keep a secret like this."

Harry sighed, "and that's why I think we need to get as much done as possible as fast as we can…" He picked at his own food. "You said killing wasn't your expertise," Harry's own curiosity getting the better of him. "What does she use you for?" He didn't know if he'd like to hear the answer.

Albus knew this question was coming. Why was he valuable to her? Why did she keep a Potter around? He took a minute to answer, mulling over it. Tell him, and end it then and there, or have his father keep asking him. He squared his jaw, and looked up. His green eyes met his father's.

"Torture."