Welcome to Until The End. We are a moderate Harry Potter role-playing site set in the Marauder's Era. Our plot is generally derived from details in the book, but as an AU site we do take liberties most anywhere we like. Those who died in the books can have a second chance at living, and those who lived are always at risk.
Tom Marvolo Riddle has long since disappeared and in his stead Lord Voldemort has risen, bringing a small army with him. The Ministry of Magic has thus far ignored the growing menace that is the Death Eaters and Albus Dumbledore has taken it upon himself to defend the wizarding community from an evil he knows is building. War is coming. Pick a side!
School's Out For Summer
The Hogwart's Express has pulled up to the station in King's Cross station and the summer holidays have officially begun. What mischeif will you get into in the warm summer sun?
*Coming Soon* - Summer Solstice Carnival
Travel by portkey to the biggest summer celebration in wizard society - The Summer Solstice Carnival! There will be food, games, prizes, fun and more!
Courage is not living without fear. Courage is being scared to death & doing the right thing anyway.
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Post by Edgar Nolan Bones on Jul 10, 2018 15:36:20 GMT -8
Edgar Bones
keep your head up & your heart strong…
Edgar carefully cradled the stack of folders in his arms as he pressed his shoulder against the heavy doors of the old pub. It groaned beneath his weight before swinging open to reveal the familiar muted green paint and bright cherry oak panels that Edgar had grown accustomed too since joining the Ministry. Like most other Ministry employees, Edgar stopped by the pub once or twice a week for a change of scenery at lunch or to grab a quick beer after work with a coworker. He’d admit that there were worst places to visit, but The Old Chapel had happy hour on Tuesdays and Thursdays, hosted a good selection of beers, and cooked a decent tasting fish n’ chips.
Although despite it being in the middle of the afternoon, Edgar found others occupying various barstools and tables in the pub. The two televisions that hung in the corners broadcasted highlights of the upcoming Premier League season and whatever the muggle reporter was saying seemed enough to capture the patrons’ attentions. Edgar slipped into a booth at the back of the room and dropped the stack of folders onto the scratched tabletop. Between his work in the Auror Division and the Order, Edgar found himself falling behind on paperwork. While this was a new development for him, it wasn’t a feeling he particularly enjoyed. Edgar took his coworkers teasing in good stride – some telling him that now he was a seasoned senior Auror, he understood their desire to push off the dull tasks of writing and filing reports to the trainees and rookies. Of course Edgar didn’t understand, but he could hardly tell them that in addition to chasing down dark wizards and investigating other wizarding crime, he was secretly aiding to lay the foundations of an inevitable war on a guy who made Grindelwald look like a Puffskein on a sugar rush. So Edgar escaped to the local pub as a quiet place to think, catch up on his reports, and look over the new cases that had been dropped on his desk this morning.
“Hey mate, haven’t seen you here in a while.”
Edgar glanced up to see the bartender standing above him. He was an older muggle by the name of Mitch, who had owned the pub since the 50s, and had become familiar with the regulars who visited his establishment. Edgar liked him well enough – he was quick the beers and a good conversation about muggle related things. In some ways, Mitch reminded him of his own grandfather.
“Yeah, work’s been keeping me busy lately,” Edgar explained, instinctively placing his arm over the files on the table. “So I thought I’d pop in for a bit, have a beer, and get some work done.”
“Right, sounds good. I got a new amber ale in last week – want to give that a shot?” Mitch asked. He seemed unbothered by Edgar’s actions to make any sort of fuss about it. Edgar nodded and Mitch seemed pleased to sell him on the new product.
As soon as Mitch left to grab him a pint, Edgar grabbed the first blue folder on the top of his strewn stack. It was a case regarding a French pureblood by name of Reynard Trounce who was moving through the English countryside and trying to rally up support for a wizarding census. The wizard’s main argument was that all purebloods (and a few notable halfbloods) should have the right to know who they were employing and more importantly reproducing with. He wanted to know not only the blood status of those registering, but any other possible affliction that would raise an issue. Though it wasn’t because a foreign pureblood was spouting nonsense that had caught the attention of the Auror department; it was the strong likelihood of his connections that caused alarm. It seemed after every village, town, or city the Frenchman visited something happened. The last time was a rally in Colchester, which led to four muggleborns carved with the word “mudblood” on their foreheads. The time before that was a muggleborn owned apothecary shop in Cirencester, which had been looted and destroyed after Reynard staged a protest down the street. He claimed the inferiority of some wizards and witches’ businesses might lead to the health issues for others who, for example, were just trying to buy a soothing tonic for their sick child. Reynard always seemed aware of the events that transpired after his visits, but he always had someone respected in the community to offer an alibi. It wasn’t much to go on yet, but Edgar was asked to start building the preliminaries of a case – to monitor it on top of the other cases and see where it went. Maybe he’d bring it up to Albus the next time they met.
As Mitch dropped off the beer, Edgar thanked him and continued scribbling notes in the margin of the file. This was a much better idea than sitting behind his desk at the office. At least here, no one could badger him and he could work in peace.
Post by Dorian Michael Humbert on Jul 21, 2018 20:59:03 GMT -8
Ever since his parents’ deaths, Dorian’s social life had withered away. He rarely went out with the intent of seeing or making friends, especially after his best mate and partner, Jasper, was killed in the line of duty. Dorian just didn’t see the point in it anymore. Everyone he loved left him all too soon so there was little reason to pull others into the fray. Yes, Jasper knew the risks when he signed up to be an Auror, but he, like most of the agents, never intended on dying on the job. Not when his best friend was at his side. Karl and Barbara Humbert had taken very few risks in their lives, and it was Dorian’s risk of joining law enforcement that directly lead to their deaths. Dorian knew he did good work for the Ministry and for wizarding Britain as a whole. He couldn’t give up his job. He wouldn’t give it up. For all the pain it had caused him, it was the only thing he had ever wanted to do with his life and so long as he kept everyone at an arm’s length, whatever metaphorical curse was upon him couldn’t affect anyone else. So no, Dorian wasn’t popping in to The Old Chapel to meet up with friends, they just made a really good shepard’s pie.
Dorian sat with his back against the wall at a small table tucked into the corner of the room, opposite of the door. He didn’t like to be in a position where someone could sneak up on him from behind, and he preferred to always have an exit strategy if trouble ever arose. The most trouble that Dorian had ever witnessed in this particular pub was a couple of blokes getting smashed and taking out their aggression on each other. A night in a muggle jail cell was all that was needed to correct that incident, but nevertheless, Dorian liked to be prepared. As he tucked into his lunch, the door opened, and his eyes instantly lifted, evaluating the new patron entering the pub. Edgar Bones. He was a good man, and a fine Auror. The pair had been prefects together in school, though they never interacted much until they found themselves in the Auror training academy at the same time. Of course, Dorian had finished his training in record time – literally – and so it was a few years still before the ever really got on to having any sort of social relationship. Edgar, unlike Dorian, seemed a very social sort. There was nothing wrong with that, but it just wasn’t Dorian’s style. They had always been rather friendly though, within the context of work, and it seemed Edgar was doing just that as he dropped a stack of files on the table of a private booth. Dorian stuck the last bite of his lunch into his mouth and washed it down with a gulp of water.
Leaving enough coins on the table to cover his bill, Dorian stood, intending to leave and take a leisurely stroll around the block before heading back in to work. On his way to the door, he paused near Edgar’s booth and greeted the man. “Hello, Edgar. Getting some work done, are we?”
Courage is not living without fear. Courage is being scared to death & doing the right thing anyway.
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Post by Edgar Nolan Bones on Jul 24, 2018 9:00:28 GMT -8
Edgar Bones
keep your head up & your heart strong…
Edgar could see the silhouette of a person out of the corner of his eye. He figured the person was passing through to use the toilets, but when he or she stopped at his table instead of continuing to walk down the hallway, Edgar quickly glanced up from his papers. Dorian Humbert – the last person he expected to see at the The Old Chapel. In fact, Edgar couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen Dorian outside of the office. Sure, they had worked together a handful of times during some of the more recent protests or for a larger raid operation, but it was still work. Though Edgar always invited Dorian whenever a couple of the Aurors were grabbing a bite to eat for lunch or hitting up happy hour at the end of the day, he was always turned down. Dorian drew a distinct line between working and fraternizing with his colleagues, and he rarely, if ever, crossed it.
Hell, Edgar had better luck getting the no-nonsense Alastor Moody to grab a pint with them than Dorian. Granted the man never ordered a beer and preferred to drink out of his own flask, but he still occasionally showed up to socialize.
And Edgar liked Dorian. He seemed to be a decent wizard in private life and a good Auror who was willing to lend a second opinion on a case if needed. He just needed to let loose every once and a while – or as some of his less tactful coworkers declared, “To remove the stick firmly shoved up his ass.” Everyone needed an outlet in this career or it was bound to make you snap one day.
Setting down the file, Edgar gave Dorian a half smile. “Yeah, it’s a bit of a madhouse back at the office. Apollo and Sebastian are on a good one today and that new trainee, Dawlish, damn near took off Alastor’s nose during an exercise. So Moody’s in a fantastic mood, which we all benefit from. I think Lex was lucky enough to get out beforehand, so hopefully whatever she’s doing will keep her out for most of the afternoon.”
Edgar tried to peer around Dorian to see if he was with anyone else at the pub or by himself. He didn’t think Dorian would be here with anyone, but you never knew. He could very well have friends outside of the Ministry and just kept his private life insanely, well, private.
“You here alone?” he asked with genuine interest. Edgar debated a moment before deciding his next move and gestured to the empty seat across from him. “I was just catching up on some paperwork. Unless you need to get back to the office, you’re more than welcome to join me.”
There was little to lose by inviting Dorian to join him. After all, what was the worst thing that could happen? He’d say ‘no’ again?
Post by Dorian Michael Humbert on Jul 24, 2018 19:34:09 GMT -8
Dorian must have snuck out of the office at just the right moment, because he didn’t remember it being much of a madhouse before lunch, although to be fair, Dorian could get a little tunnel-visioned while working on a case. This Ramses case, which he’d been working on for months now, had definitely pulled his attention away from other things lately. It was entirely possible that Dorian had just tuned out all of the madness and tucked himself away in his little cubicle to look over the evidence, looking once more for some trail that hadn’t yet run cold.
He sucked on his teeth as Edgar detailed the situation at the office, deciding if maybe it wouldn’t be better to follow up on a few leads from his other cases instead of heading straight back to the Ministry after his walk. Alastor in a foul mood could be unbearable. Dorian was definitely second guessing his plans for the day.
“Yes, I was just grabbing a bite to eat. Sounds like I got out of the office just in time,” he added thoughtfully. Upon being extended an offer to join Edgar, Dorian’s instinct was to decline but Edgar had been assigned to a few cases that Dorian had heard about that sounded interesting, and he wouldn’t mind talking shop for a moment or two. He still had 30 minutes on his lunch hour, so there really wasn’t any harm in having a chat, and it wasn’t as if Dorian couldn’t go for a stroll later on. “Thank you, that’d be lovely.” He took the seat across from Edgar, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he sat. “What are you working on?” he asked sincerely.
Courage is not living without fear. Courage is being scared to death & doing the right thing anyway.
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Post by Edgar Nolan Bones on Jul 25, 2018 4:22:47 GMT -8
Edgar Bones
keep your head up & your heart strong…
Edgar was surprised, but secretly pleased with himself when Dorian accepted his offer and slid into the other side of the booth. It was about time. It took him nearly five years, but the wizard finally gave in. Edgar knew he would get a ‘yes’ to something someday – always had faith despite what the others said – but he realized once the moment happened, he didn’t know where to go from there. He felt like the poor bloke who asked the same girl to the Yule Ball every year, expected the same answer every year, and then is stunned when she flips the script and says ‘yes.’ Now it was time to shape up and impress the little witch. Or, in this case, a stoic twenty-seven year old Auror.
“You’re really not missing much,” Edgar agreed. He gathered up some of the scattered files in order to make some elbow room for Dorian on the tabletop. “Sebastian and Apollo are bored – and they never do well cooped up in the same room for too long. I packed my things when Moody started yelling at the trainees to line up and start reciting their wand safety manuals. I think he was shooting jinxes at the feet of those who forgot their lines again because the last thing I heard was Oberon telling him that he didn’t have any more boots to spare.”
Grabbing his beer, Edgar took a quick swig. It was bitter and not particularly hoppy, but it wasn’t too bad. Edgar really had no preference to the so-called American termed “amber ale” and he liked most of the British pale ales. Gesturing to his beer, Edgar casually asked, “Do you want anything? It can be our little secret. No one at the office has to know about it.”
As for what Edgar was working on – well it was a little bit of this and a little bit of that. At this point, he was jumping between a handful of different cases in an effort to speed up the catch up process. He had a disorganized order to things; a system that made sense to him when he needed it, but something that was unsystematic enough to discourage any colleagues from rifling through his cases as they pleased.
“I’ve been trying to catch up on some leads and notations – or to see if anything new jumps out at me. The green folders are summary offences and red folders are indictable offences. If there’s a red tab in the folder than it’s a crime against a person, yellow is crime against property, blue is crime against justice, and purple is for victimless crimes.” Edgar explained with a quick rundown on his system. He picked up a red folder with multiple colored tabs sticking out of it. “And as you can see, one folder can have multiple offences.”
Edgar picked up a blue folder, which comprised the majority of his stack. They were a new addition to his filing system and were intentionally kept a part from the reds and the greens. They also didn’t feature any colored tabs because Edgar knew these cases by heart. Some of them were Ministry supported and others, well, weren’t quite yet. “These are wizarding crimes of a particular variety against muggleborns, halfbloods, and muggles. Sometimes against the occasional goblin or lycanthrope, but not a lot of them wind up coming forward.”
Names were prominently featured on each of the fourteen folders. If Dorian chose to browse through the names, he would see that the green folders included: Albert Fondles, Roger Yates, and Belinda Macklin. As for the reds, they were labeled: Uriel Wormwood, Dustin Eris, Elias Stoker, and Frederick Von Trousen. Lastly, the blue folders: Reynard Trounce, Gilbert Hare & Mortimer Burke, Kevan & Karlie Avery, Fenrir Greyback, Gregory Dumsworth, Delilah Stetson, and Unknown.
It was a system, Edgar's system, and it worked well for him.
tagged: Dorian Michael Humbertnotes: It’s like a good old fashion ‘chose your own adventure’.
Post by Dorian Michael Humbert on Jul 31, 2018 21:57:28 GMT -8
Dorian settled into his seat and listened to Edgar further detail the happenings at the office. Moody had a very confrontational way about managing the new recruits and while it may have gotten the job done, Dorian didn’t agree that it was the most appropriate way to effectively train the incoming Aurors. A healthy fear of the chaos men could cause and “constant vigilance” was of course a necessary component to the job but hexing them outside of combat training was ineffective. There were better ways to motivate the recruits. One day, if Dorian ever succeeded in his goal to eventually head the department, he would put specific, research-based procedures in place for the effective training of incoming Aurors. He had already spent some of his free time researching various methods. He was nothing if not a planner.
Edgar offered him a drink, and Dorian declined with a polite shake of his head and a gently raised hand. It didn’t matter whether Edgar agreed to keep his drinking a secret, Dorian wouldn’t be one to drink on the job despite knowing he wouldn’t be caught. It wasn’t how things were done. It wasn’t appropriate. But he was not one to tattle when others fudged the rules, even if they were unspoken. It was none of his business whether his colleagues had a pint with lunch, and so long as it didn’t impair their ability to perform their duties, he would never mention to anyone if he felt it inappropriate.
Dorian didn’t need to know the man’s organizational system, but it was interesting nonetheless. It was nice to see that he wasn’t the only wizard who meticulously organized their casework. Some Aurors he had worked with were so scattered that it was like working three cases instead of one. Dorian didn’t snoop to read over the names written on the files, preferring to ask directly about the case he had been only slightly jealous to not be assigned to. “You’re working that werewolf case, aren’t you? Greyback?”
Courage is not living without fear. Courage is being scared to death & doing the right thing anyway.
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Post by Edgar Nolan Bones on Aug 6, 2018 18:16:31 GMT -8
Edgar Bones
keep your head up & your heart strong…
Edgar watched with some curiosity as Dorian appeared to show no interest in the files on the table. He had asked Edgar what he was working on – even seemed sincere about it – perhaps he was looking for something…more specific? Edgar was about to ask, but Dorian beat him too it.
So that was it. Fenrir Greyback – presumed werewolf at large. Heavy emphasis on the ‘presumed’ piece.
“Yeah, I was,” Edgar told him. “Well, I am. But there’s not much of a case to go on.”
And that was the truth of it. He had been asked to look into the man by Albus – although Edgar thought ‘man’ was too generous of a label for someone like Fenrir. While Edgar didn’t really have an opinion one way or another about lycanthropes, Fenrir was a different type of monstrous beast. When Albus first brought up Fenrir nearly three months ago, he asked Edgar to simply trust him. He said it was imperative that they track the werewolf down. Fenrir was a danger to wizarding society and the type of creature the Dark Lord would look to use as a weapon. Edgar agreed to do what he could, but Albus didn’t give him much to go on. The only facts he could give Edgar was that Fenrir was 1) an unregistered lycanthrope who hadn’t been seen in years and 2) had a goal to raise his own werewolf army by any means necessary – including the murder and infection of children.
Of course Edgar couldn’t go to his superiors based on the conviction of Hogwart’s headmaster and say it was enough to launch a manhunt for a guy named Fenrir Greyback. It took some digging, but Edgar found a report from 1965 when Fenrir first came to the Ministry’s attention. It stated that Fenrir had been taken into custody to be questioned about the murders of two muggle children. Responding Aurors deemed the crime scene so awful that the murders were “beyond the capacity of human violence” and were animalistic in nature – most likely committed by a lycanthrope. Fenrir had been found in the nearby vicinity, filthy and wandless, and claimed to have no knowledge of the children or the magical world in general. The questioning committee ultimately decided Fenrir was nothing more than a common muggle tramp and was not the man they were looking for. Everyone on the questioning committee agreed except for one man – Lyall Lupin – but his concerns hadn’t been taken seriously. Mr. Lupin believed Fenrir to be a werewolf and wanted confirmation, but Fenrir escaped with the help of two accomplices.
And that was the last confirmed sighting of Fenrir Greyback.
Edgar spent the next month and a half trying to track down Lyall Lupin. He was his best lead, but the bookish wizard was much more difficult to locate than anticipated. After Fenrir’s escape, the Lupins spent the next six years moving from one small town to another – never really staying in one place for more than a couple of months. Each town, Edgar discovered, was one dead end after another. No one really knew much about the family other than the fact they kept to themselves, had a son, and were a little odd. It was by chance that Edgar got a hit on a renewed subscription to the Daily Prophet in Lyall’s name with a current address.
But of course, when it came down to it, Lyall Lupin had no desire to talk to Edgar. As soon as Edgar introduced himself and stated his business, Lyall claimed he didn’t know what he was talking about. When Edgar reminded him about the incident in 1965, he watched as Lyall’s face darkened, but the man revealed no new information. “Yes,” he admitted with some reluctance, “I was there that day. But after thinking about it, the other committee members were right – Fenrir Greyback was a muggle tramp. He was spooked when he overheard us talking about erasing his memories and ran. That’s it.” Edgar tried to tell Lyall that he believed him; that he suspected Fenrir was responsible for similar murders and attacks over the last decade, but it did little to open up any sort of dialogue with the wizard. Lyall excused himself, closed the door, and Edgar found himself at another dead end.
Despite the lack of confirmed sightings, Edgar did believe Fenrir had been spotted over the years. There was the murder of the eight-year-old halfblood witch who had been found behind her home in 1967. There was the abduction of the four-year-old twins in 1971, which has since remained an open and unsolved case. Then another suspicious murder – this time unmistakably lycanthrope – against 38-year-old Trish Wells in 1973. Edgar remembered that one; he’d been at the scene and was shocked at the amount of blood that coated her room. But most recently was the violent assault against Benedict Thatcher in November 1974. Mr. Thatcher had viciously been beaten within an inch of his life. The healers had difficulty distinguishing if his cuts and abrasions were committed by man or animal, but three months later Mr. Thatcher found himself at the office of the Werewolf Registry – so Edgar learned that answered the healers’ questions.
Each of those cases also implicated a man, much like Fenrir, near the scene of the crime. Witnesses could place the man canvassing the area three to five days beforehand, and the crimes always took place the day or night of the full moon. Edgar was sure he could connect more unsolved reports to Fenrir if given the time, but he was starting to worry that his superiors were less than patient. It was starting to look like a wild goose chase and Edgar felt he needed to deliver some solid evidence to keep the case open.
All of this was written in Fenrir’s file (with the exclusion of Albus’s name, Edgar wasn’t that reckless), but Edgar often found himself keeping it at the top of his stack of files. He wasn’t ready to give up; he just needed a new break in the case.
“I just need to find a way to track down a monster that otherwise doesn’t exist in the wizarding world,” Edgar said with a small, wistful smile. “Some days I think I might have better luck tracking down a unicorn.”
