When I first met Fenrir Greyback I was eighteen years old. I'd just graduated from Hogwarts and the Dark Lord was on the rise. Being a Lestrange, this meant a particular amount of change for me. My brothers, Rodolphus and Rabastan, were marked very early on at the start of the war. My father tried to keep me out of it; to shield me from the darkness creeping into the world. It was no use, though. The Dark Lord called on me by name.

It was late in the evening when I arrived at the Shrieking Shack with my father. Waiting for us was the Dark Lord, Fenrir Greyback, and the Carrow's, who I unfortunately knew quite well. It was surprisingly easy for me to tuck away how frightened I was. I was able to view the situation from a distance, like it was an out-of-body experience.

"Ah, Andora Lestrange. We meet at last," The Dark Lord held his arms out, welcoming me to his legion.

"It is a pleasure, my Lord," The words felt strange on my tongue, but I knew it was right to say. He seemed pleased.

"Come dear, let me look at you," He gestured me forward and I stepped away from the comfort of my father's side. The Dark Lord took my hand, turning it over and examining it as if he were looking for something. He brushed his fingertips across my cheek and I tried not to tremble at how cold they were.

"Spin," He said, taking a step back. "Let us see how beautiful you are," I did as I was told, turning myself in a full circle while trying not to trip over my own feet. I wasn't sure what all this was for, or how it was relevant, but I wouldn't disobey him.

"What do you think?" The Dark Lord inquired, looking to his three companions. I too turned my gaze on them.

"Aye, my Lord, she's always been quite the looker," Amycus said, winking cheekily at me. The look on his face alone made my stomach turn.

"Ah, no she isn't," Alecto crossed her arms and fixed me with an icy glare. "She's ugly as a mandrake. What's her looks got to do with it anyway?" I shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of my peers. Alecto was just being cold, as she herself wasn't very pleasing to the eye. She wasn't very pleasing to the ear either, to be quite honest.

"And you, Fenrir? What do you think of our new ally?" It wasn't until the Dark Lord addressed him that I had the guts to look at him directly.

Fenrir was the tallest, bulkiest, most menacing thing I'd ever seen in my life. He was so big, in fact, it seemed he could barely squeeze into the clothes he was wearing. His sheer size was enough for someone to keep him at a distance, but it wasn't the worst part of him. His monstrous hands ended at talon-like fingernails. His sky blue eyes were so sharp it felt as if they stared straight into the most private part of your being. And that smile.

"I think we should keep her," Fenrir said in the most suggestive voice and with the most sinister expression. At the moment, he felt more dangerous to me than the Dark Lord, who held my life in the palm of his hand.

"I do agree," My gaze returned gratefully to the Dark Lord as he spoke.

"Your arm, if you please," He reached out and I extended my limb to him. I knew what was coming. I'd avoided becoming a Death Eater for as long as possible, but it was the family business. I would be loyal to my family and therefor I would be loyal to the Dark Lord.

"Fenrir, steady her, if you will," With that said, I was bracing myself more for the beasts touch than from the now obvious pain I was about to be in. With a deep chuckle the half man, half wolf placed his heavy hands on my sides and stood so near to me that I could feel his breath.

Before I had much time to be repulsed unimaginable pain ripped through my arm. I was rather tolerant of pain. I couldn't recall a time, since becoming a teenager, that I had cried from it. I could sit through pain and suffer. Pain was temporary, but this was not. Once I felt this pain I felt it not in my skin, but in my soul. I belonged to this person and I was going to suffer oh so greatly for that.