“ is there anything else you want to say to me? ” (definitely sarcastic)
“ anything else ? ” nicodemus echoes, his head tilting towards the side as he considers the girl in front of him. “ i don’t think so, but if i were pressed to say something, though, ” he trails off, a slow smile spreading across his face, “ i’d say something along the lines of how your family is scum to the wizarding world. and you yourself ? nothing better. how i’d hate to be one of you — ” ( liar, a voice in his head whispers. liar, liar, liar ) “ — so it’s a good thing i’m not. ” he takes a breath, the tight smile not leaving his face. “ i could continue if you’d like. otherwise, you should just go now. run home to daddy, why don’t you ? ”
Ailith, generally speaking, held the same disdain for wixen that they held for her. The number of wix she had truly known before the pack allied with the Wraiths was few; those that had fallen on Fenrir’s bad side and suffered for it did not count, Ailith’s…. acquaintance with them always being rather brief. So this sort of conversation—-casual and shallow as it might be—-was new to Ailith, who altogether, preferred her own company to anyone else’s. Her preference for solitude did not mean she was oblivious, however; you didn’t survive as Fenrir’s (unenthusiastic) right hand without some keen observation skills.
“Don’t worry, Prewett, you’re much prettier than me; if anyone’s caught his fancy, I’m sure it’s you.”
Nicodemus Prewett no doubt thought she was no better than the dirt on the bottom of his shoe, same as any of the mudbloods he fought against; the difference was, she was useful to the Wraiths, and therefore to him. She wasn’t afraid of him; he was, after all, still a teenager. But neither was she blind enough not to recognize that Nicodemus was higher on the proverbial totem-pole than she would ever be. And so if this was what he wanted to amuse himself with—buying her a drink and pretending to want to speak with her—-she wouldn’t kick up a fuss by saying no, no matter how much she wished to be left alone. It could be worse, really.
“Knotgrass mead. But if you’re buying, make it firewhiskey, neat.” There was a pause; Ailith hated small talk, “Enjoying your break?”
nicodemus hummed, acknowledgement that he had heard her, but he couldn’t help the slight grin that pulled at his mouth at her statement. it was undeniable that he liked hearing good things said about himself — praise, accolades, whatever — they fed his ego and he would never tire of them. still — “ you think ? ” it wasn’t beneath him to go fishing for compliments.
it did strike him briefly that maybe, maybe, he should be careful of how he presented himself around others, especially other wraiths. most were older than he, and he was sure that they had their own opinions. some of them likely thought he was an insufferable twit. what mattered most was that they didn’t know him, not at all. he was content with that. when the time came, when it truly counted for something, he’d show his mettle, his capabilities. until then, though, it could matter less.
“ sure. ” he raised a hand to catch the attention of the bartender, asking for her drink without a please or thank you. he fished around in his pocket, setting a galleon on the bar. it’d cover his drink, hers, and whatever else he’d decide to order later on.
“ you could say that, ” he said with a neat shrug of his shoulders. “ nothing’s happening. it’s — it’s boring, honestly. ” how easy it was for a person like nicodemus to say that. he had no cares, little responsibility being away from the school. nothing weighed heavy on his conscience. “ what about you ? not a break, obviously, you haven’t got one, i know. but your holidays ?
“ i wish i knew how to talk about it. ”
“ you don’t have to talk, we can just sit together. ”
“ i don’t want to be alone anymore. ”
“ i wish i could hate you. ”
“ take a seat, we’re gonna be here a while. ”
“ i need you to trust me. ”
“ i missed/miss you. ”
“ she/he won’t listen to me. ”
“ let me do this for you. please. ”
“ is there anything else you want to say to me? ”
“ tell me something happy. ”
“ promise me. ”
“ i just want/wanted to help. ”
“ let me explain. ”
“ i didn’t/don’t need you to understand, i just wanted/want you to support me. ”
“ i’m on your side. ”
“ i’ve got your back, okay? ”
“ please, tell me you have a plan. ”
“ stay with me tonight. ”
“ don’t go. please. ”
“ i’ve been alone for so long i’m afraid i don’t know what it’s like not to be. ”
“ talk to me. ”
“ i did what i had to do. ”
“ we can’t keep going on like this. ”
“ i’m just tired. ”
“ i’m scared. ”
“ it’s okay to be afraid. fear can be good. use it. ”
“ it’s better to expect disappointment. ”
“ hope is dangerous. ”
“ i like seeing you smile. ”
“ you look beautiful. ”
“ be patient with her/him. they’re trying. ”
“ i’m trying my best and it’s not good enough. it’s never good enough. ”
“ i’m starting to think i’m just fucked up. ”
“ have a drink with me. ”
“ she/he is better off without me. but i guess that’s their choice. ”
“ you can’t dictate what’s best for someone else. ”
“ can i help you? ”
“ i thought you’d like this. ”
“ do you wanna get out of here? ”
“ walk with me? ”
“ well, shit. ”
It was strange to be back. Victoire’s mind was flooded with memories of these streets - memories from the time she was a young girl, and through all of her school years, giggling with her siblings and cousins, her friends. Now, Pascal walked in front of her, but she was alone, lost in her own thoughts as she walked the cobblestones. Diagon Alley was somewhere that was meant to be familiar and inviting. Instead, she felt shut out from her old world.
She had needed to get out. Her family, while well intentioned, hadn’t been able to wipe the look of worry from their faces every time they looked at her. It wasn’t as if she didn’t understand why, but it was becoming suffocating, and so, Victoire had grabbed her cloak and Pascal’s leash, and made her way out. The cold air bit at her exposed skin, but felt welcome in her lungs.
It wasn’t until she felt a tug on her end of the leash that Victoire was drawn out of her thoughts, looking up to see Pascal rushing at someone. “I - I’m so sorry!” She called, rushing to catch up with the dog, before seeing the figure, “He doesn’t always have the best manners.”
wandering around diagon alley had become familiar to nicodemus. between meetings with orion and dinners with his parents, he spent his days out in the open, seeing what there was to look at, if only to try and stifle some of the boredom he felt. he could buy any of it with a snap of his fingers. perhaps that was why it was all so dreary to him. a part of him always was drawn to the things he didn’t and couldn’t have. diagon alley was beginning to become boring.
the dog coming towards him suddenly was an unwanted surprise, though mildly exciting, if he were being completely honest. he pulled his gaze away from a solid gold cauldron in the window of a potions shop, huffing as he turned, before taking a step backwards to look at the dog and its owner.
seeing the woman who held the leash caused his lip to curl.
a weasley. wonderful.
" bad manners ? you don’t say. ” nicodemus paused, his gaze narrowing on the dog before he pulled it up to land on the face of the weasley — victoire, maybe ? his voice was light when he said, “ i would say he probably learned that from you. ”
who: ailith greyback && OPEN
when: december 22, 2025
where: the white wyvern, knockturn alley
Ailith’s hands grasped the stein in front of her as she worked to slow her breathing. She had come to expect the aftereffects of her runes by now, more or less; the gloves on her hands may have hidden them from sight, but the telltale feeling of magic crackling across her skin was something she was growing used to. The strength they added was significant—even for a werewolf—and the adrenaline that filled her now anytime she fought made her feel nearly invincible—but coming down was still… unpleasant, and left her on edge.
It had been a shop in Diagon Alley she’d had to visit, in order to intimidate a shopkeeper the Wraiths had deemed unruly. It hadn’t been hard, nor had it taken long to cow him into silence and promises of obedience; between her own brand of violence and promises of a visit from Fenrir Greyback himself if he reneged on his word, the man had little choice but to comply.
Movement to her left caught her by surprise as someone took the seat next to her. She raised an eyebrow but was otherwise quiet for a moment—most people gave her a wide berth, from fear or disgust she could never know for certain. So when a drink that decidedly not hers was set down in front of her, she used the back of her hand to push it to the side.
untouchable. there was no doubting that nicodemus prewett viewed himself as such. he came from a good family, he had the right name, the right blood. and with the state of the world being as it was right now, he could nearly do no wrong. it was a good feeling, one he relished. it was almost dulled, though, being away from hogwarts for break. the feeling of superiority of his peers, glints of fear in their eyes — it would be a lie to say he didn’t miss it.
what that fact said about him wasn’t one he cared about.
most of his days away from hogwarts had been spent doing little. he spent time with his parents, some time with orion lestrange, too. nothing seemed significant, at least not to nicodemus. perhaps it could be said he wasn’t the best judge of what was or wasn’t important. did that really matter, though ? it surely wouldn’t when power and control was his. when that happened, anything he wanted to be important would be.
everything else would be of little consequence. trivial trifles.
the sound of the glass moving across the bar pulled his attention from — what else — himself towards the woman beside him.
“ clearly, it’s mine, ailith, unless maybe the bartender has taken a fancy to you, maybe ? ” he smiled. it was mocking.
he took a long, lazy glance around them before reaching for the drink. no one else was nearby. whether that was because of the state of diagon alley now or because who she was couldn’t be decided between.
he was aware that she was a werewolf, more than knowing of the fear that she could strike into the hearts of those who knew of her name and reputation. it didn’t seem to bother him.
“ what were you drinking ? ” he nodded towards the stein she held. “ i’ll buy you another. ”
Hi, everyone! For those of you who are in the talk tag, here is an ask meme I’ve written up for you to send to each other! You’re not required to participate at all, but I thought it would be a fun, relaxed way for us to explore all of our characters. Please feel free to reblog this if you’d like to join in, and if you reblog it, please be sure to pay it forward and send some asks out to everyone else who has reblogged it too! If you feel comfortable doing so, please put any of your responses in the talk tag, so we all can see!
Send me any number between 1-50 to find out more about my character! Please look under the read more if you want to see which questions correspond to which number.
“There lurks a traitor in the midst. THE HEDONIST is destined to be the final betrayer, the last domino to fall. When they finally choose a side, everything will change. Whether this change will be for better or for worse remains to be seen.”
ABOUT
As direct descendants of Ignatius Prewett and Lucretia Black, your branch of the family fought tooth and nail to keep their Sacred Twenty-Eight status after the Weasleys were denounced as blood traitors. Although Ignatius was close with Molly when he was still alive, your parents wanted nothing to do with that side of the family out of fear that it would ruin the Prewetts’ precarious position in pureblood society. While Molly’s children grew up poor, you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, a king in everything but name. You had the gold to buy anything you could ever want – except for your parents’ love – so you became gluttonous and ravenous. When you were only eleven, your parents left you at Platform 9 ¾ without a single good-bye hug, eager to get you out of their hair for several months. It was not until you saw the Weasley branch of your family for the first time that you realized how touch-starved for affection you had been. Too young to discern the difference between envy and resentment, your white-hot rage simmered until it was as scorching as dragon fire. Although you bore their ruddy hair and freckles, you vowed to prove that you were nothing like them. Orion recruited you to the Wraiths personally, appealing to your steadfast loyalty to the Black side of your family. But every time you gaze into the mirror, you see the face of your ancestors – your Prewett ancestors – lying in wait.
{ PLEASE SEE MUSE INSPO BLOG HERE FOR MORE INFO. }
PLOT ARC
As a Gryffindor Prewett, you had to overcome stigma after stigma in order to be taken seriously in the Wraiths. But now that you’ve managed to claw your way to the top, your heart remains still as insatiable as ever. You yearn to be loved, and although Orion took you under their wing as a protege, it did not take you long to realize that they merely view you as a tool – a means to an end. Even Orion could not offer you the affection you so desperately crave, so the venom in your heart only seemed to spread. A lifetime in pureblood society has taught you that true adoration comes from power and fear, and you long to be a king. A true king, not merely a pawn disguised as one. Orion has what you want, and like the spoiled rotten heir you are, you’ll have what you want if it’s the final thing that you do. Until now, there has never been something you set your sights on that you did not manage to get in the end, but as they say, hubris is the downfall of man. It will be your downfall too if you do not mind your step.
❝ I know I shouldn’t do it, I just do it, and what you think’s got nothing to do with it. Before you were born, I was already sinning. It’s not because the light here is brighter and it’s not that I’m evil, I just don’t like to pretend. ❞ NICODEMUS PREWETT looks a lot like that muggle, LORENZO ZURZOLO, right? Only a SEVENTH YEAR student, that GRYFFINDOR student is sided with the WRAITHS. HE identifies as a CIS MAN and is a PUREBLOOD. [ BEE/BEATRICE, SHE/HER, 22, EST ]
hello !!!!!! i’m bee !!!!!!! i LOVE exclamation points, if you couldn’t tell !!!! i’m super duper stoked to be writing nico. he’s kind of the worst !!! i promise i’m a lot nicer than he is !!! and i also have memes !!!!! if you hit me with a like, i’ll come plot with you !!! also pls bear with me on this intro. there’s no rhyme or reason to it.
aesthetic: silk ties. tweed blazers. crystal glasses. lies that flow from lips like honey. a not-yet-crowned king. the glint of white teeth behind a feral smile. naive rage. a powerful glare. pressed shirts. expensive cologne. cigarette smoke clinging to your clothes, your skin. a need for fine things. lush champagne. a flair for the dramatic. a storming temper. unlimited grandiosity. chaos-touched. perfect but rotten. a disregard for consequence. boyish charm.
rambly bits: ( mentions of child abuse )
— godless hubris
how do you know yourself ? all too well. you know you are sure, you know you are just. there is nothing wrong with you — in fact, you are probably as close to perfection as a wizard could get, and you truly believe that. your blood is pure, you are beautiful, you are capable. you have no flaws ( — none that see the light of day, or that others know of ) and that’s remarkable. you are sure you are going to be known in perpetuity. your name will be next to the greatest the wizarding world has seen. where can you go from here ? only up.
— righteous fury
is your fury yours ? or did you learn it ? orion lestrange gave you attention, and to get more, you listened to what he said. you gleaned his anger until it tasted like your own. suddenly, there was no good or evil, wrong or right. it was simple: what the wraiths said went. you are not one to question something that will bring you recognition, something that will bring you power. you will do what needs to be done to ensure the wraiths ( rather, and deep down you know it isn’t and has never been done for the wraiths, but rather for yourself ).
— hapless melancholia
you remember seeing the weasleys in diagon alley once when you were young. you made a careless remark that one of the children looked quite a bit like yourself. your father gripped your chin in his fingers and made for sure certain that you knew you were nothing like them. you thought little of them again until you saw them on the platform to leave to hogwarts. there were joyous shouts and gleeful exclamations. there were multiple kisses and tight hugs — unexpectedly, your heart ached. you thought you would get over it. you thought you would grow up and grow out of these … childish longings. instead, time went on, these feelings grew stronger. you would wake up, your chest heavy, feeling a desperation for something you couldn’t buy — you wanted to be loved. you wanted soft words and softer touches. you deserved those things, didn’t you ? if those ruddy weasleys had it, why couldn’t you ? this grief over lack of affection all too often turns to anger. you shake and you snap so easily — really, it should be no wonder why no one loves you.
— dark souls, ( dark ? ) dreams
nature and nurture are curious things. your nature ensured that you crave love, but your nurturing ( — rather, your lack thereof ) ensured that you were cruel and callous. your father was a nasty man, harsh and severe, and you learned from him how to be the same. after all, your ploys for attention included acting like him the best you could. you copied his mannerisms, his way of speech. it never did catch you his fondness, but it did warp you into someone unkind and severe. despite being dark, your dreams are lighter than you are in the day. there is love and there is warmth, and things are gentle and soft. but when you wake, you scoff. you’re not sure if you are angry that a part of you is so weak, or if you are angry that you don’t have these nice things.
— bitter glory
heavy lies the head that wears a crown. that won’t be the case with you. you will wear it with ease when you are finally king, you will not be stifled. you have one goal: to be king. what will you do to get it ? anything. you will give up your chances of being loved, you will rid yourself of the chains of being loyal to anyone else. if that causes you ache, this loss, so be it. some things are worth more than others.
wraiths:
— there is something so satisfying about being in charge of all the student wraiths. it’s a taste, more like a tease, of the power he could have once he is out of school. it feels so right, so fitting. but part of the draw to the wraiths had been orion. nicodemus had hoped ( had prayed ) that the man would be something more than his parents had been, something more than anyone in his life had been. it didn’t happen, though. orion offered him power, and the taste of it melted into his tongue sweetly, and that’s what is keeping him involved. tl;dr: are the wraiths right ? who is he to say. is he going to keep with them for the time being because he’s a power-hungry baby megalomaniac ? yes, one hundred perfect.
— his code name is viticomus, meaning adorned or crowned with vine-leaves.
— he has a rune because selling your soul at the ripe age of sixteen ( maybe seventeen, tba ?? ) was totally a good idea for him ! one of the best he’s ever had ! it’s for occlumency and it’s on the nape of his neck under his hair.
prophecy:
— the final betrayer. what does that mean ? nicodemus has wondered but he refuses to say anything certain to anyone. there are seemingly countless people he could betray. orion. his prewett relatives. himself. it leaves a strange taste in his mouth, wondering what it could mean. he doesn’t suppose he wouldn’t betray orion — for all the man had taught him, nicodemus still didn’t have the thing he wanted most — and should circumstances be right, it would be a hard choice. and the prewetts ? it could be argued that he’s already betrayed them, taking the label and beliefs of wraiths. but the last option worries him the most. it would be so easy. give up the things he wants, subject himself to a life that isn’t quite fulfilling.
plot arc:
— nicodemus knows that power is the key to adoration. now at the top of the wraiths, or at the very least, of the students ( maybe some of the adults, or at least in his mind, he is ), the lust for more is nearly palpable. he doesn’t just want it — he needs it. if he isn’t to get it, what has it all been for then ? he cannot wait for the respect, he cannot wait until his name strikes feeling into the heart of those who hear it. only then, will he be satisfied ( —or so he thinks ).
more rambles, less structure:
— can i just say: the duality of man ??? the lust for power, the need for love. these things typically don’t play together. for those who want power, they sacrifice love because the respect and fear they command replace it. sometimes being loving doesn’t command power. nico ( a note: no one calls him nico. it’s too informal, it’s too plebian, but for my sake while writing this intro, i will call him nico ) doesn’t quite understand this. he wants to be on top ( a need for a crown is overwhelming, and he’s only just begun tasting what kinghood is like, glints of power in his hands ) but he also wants to be loved. but does he know what love is ? probably not. he knows it’s in how you care for another person, a feeling that wells up in your chest, but i’m not sure he really knows how to love someone. he knows what it is to want and to lust, but love ? he’s never had it ! he wouldn’t know love if it smacked him in the face ! my poor emotionally-stunted, morally-skewed boy ! ( also i will acknowledge: the wraiths ? bad. nico ? Bad. not good people. not people you should aspire to be ! )
— and let’s talk about the weasleys ! what does he feel when he see them ? anger. jealousy. sadness. he could have been like them, if things were different. he could have known them. he could have been loved by them. and yet, none of those things are true. they’re practically all strangers, but he feels so much around them. for the most part, he hides it, behind snide words and an upturned nose. there is no getting close to them — first, he doesn’t know how to mend years of cruel behavior, but two, what if they turned him away ? for nico, feeling his own hurt and resentment as is is much better than risking getting hurt more.
— onion headlines that give me nicodemus vibes: “ i am the product of a single-nanny household ” “ wealthy teen nearly experiences consequence ” “ somebody should make a movie about my life ” “ i am lost in my own mansion ” “ report: income inequality most apparent during fifth-grade classmate’s birthday party ”
thoughts, few details:
— his parents hate each other and cheated on one another all the time as he grew up. are they a good example of a healthy relationship ? definitely not.
— he’s a scorpio. moody bitch.
— charms his hair brown now that he’s older to look less like a weasley, but can’t be bothered about the maintenance until someone points out he’s looking a little ruddy. the freckles, though ? he charmed them once and he ended up with like a thousand more and he won’t tempt fate again.
— would probably choke if someone liked him. probably ??? would think they’re lying.
— voldemort ? had good methods of control and fear-mongering. could nico be a better leader ? he believes so.
— his parents only had a kid out of obligation and not love. can we imagine the complex that gives a kid ?
— his parents supported voldemort back in the day. they still believed in pureblooded ideals, though, and nico grew up hearing them. this meant that the wraiths weren’t telling him anything he didn’t know when he was readying to join them.
— a note on this: orion tempted him with the allure of family. not pureblooded mania, not the scorn for anyone not entirely witch or wizard, but with family. they were both blacks, slight distance between them both, and blood together was a powerful thing. he had hoped this meant affection — he would have been over the moon at the smallest of fondness — but it seemed ( like voldemort himself — orion would be enthused at the comparison ) the older man was incapable of such.
— nico’s view of love DOES NOT equal real love. he’s dumb and wouldn’t know love if it hit him in the face.
— he thinks he should be loved. like, thinks people should be bowing at his feet, kissing his shoes. he thinks he’s more than deserving of it. how could he not be ?
— his full name is nicodemus vaughn prewett. he’s named after a dead relative. wizards love that.
