With the capture of Verandi Farley and several high-ranking Trossach members, the British wizarding world has finally caught a break. The rate of rogue werewolf attacks have started dropping at a steady rate and, hopefully, things will stay that way. The Ministry is starting to loosen some restrictions, like not arresting werewolves standing on the street for loitering, however there’s still an obvious power imbalance between wizardfolk and werewolves.
The Cotswolds pack are continuing to advocate for the rights of werewolves and petitioning to change the legislation that has been set in motion by the current Minister for Magic, whilst the remaining Trossachs members are trying to stay out of the spotlight and keep a low profile… for now.
Whilst the British wizarding world seems to have calmed down, the same cannot be said for over in Northern Europe where a rebellion of magical creatures has risen. The state of things has gotten so bad that the European Ministry has enacted protocols to protect those under eighteen whilst their adult witches and wizards fight to keep control of their countries.
Students from Durmstrang have been sent to Hogwarts to keep them safe and those not old enough to attend school have been sent to live with relatives or designated British Ministry officials outside of Europe for the time being.
Will the low rates of werewolf attacks in Britain continue? How long will Durmstrang students stay at Hogwarts? Will the creatures usurp the wizardfolk in Northern Europe? Only time will tell.
SEPTEMBER 2019 It's been a very long, eventful summer in the wizarding world. A baby was stolen, several high ranking Trossach members were imprisoned, and werewolf attacks have drastically dropped as a result. What will happen now school has returned?
MAY 2019 An attempt to capture the beta of the Trossachs has been launched. Were the Aurors successful in their mission? Go read more here!
Wolfgang Albert Kallenbach was born on a cloudy spring day almost 17 years ago, and from the very beginning of his life was just like the playful breeze that had tangled his father into the Kallenbach-Malton residence's living room blinds as he ran to see his wife after the birth. He was the second of three sons to Alfred Kallenbach, a pureblood wizard from Germany and Diane Malton, a muggle-born witch. He's three years younger than his brother Ludvig and two years older than Johan.
Besides the family, another resident of the house was his maternal grandfather, Max. He was an odd man, disappearing for weeks and arriving home at the strangest of hours. When Wolfgang asked his mother about it, she told him to forget about it and pay him no mind. When he prompted his grandfather, the old man just laughed, ruffled the kid’s hair and promised to tell him when he would be a little older. Instead, he entertained Wolfgang’s questions about everything else under the sun.
His grandfather died when he was five. His brothers grieved and did it outwardly, but Wolfgang never expressed such feelings. They were repressed in his little mind, hidden behind colorful fairy tales, coloring books and the old magazines he found in grandfather's things when they were carried out of the house. His parents were concerned about his absolute ignorance of the event, but time passed and everyone stopped caring about such trivial things.
His mother, Diane, refused to let go of her muggle lifestyle even after all the years she'd lived as a witch. A Ravenclaw in her time, she insisted, that her children had to know not only the wizard world of their father, but the muggle of her's. For his 12th birthday, Wolfgang received a laptop of his own, after whining that his older brother had had one for several years and that he never even used it. He wasn't wrong - Ludvig expressed little interest in the muggle world. Johan though, was a squib, who was destined to spend his days as a muggle.
His father worked as a curse breaker, and spent most of his time educating his older brother, so he never really paid much attention to his second son. This proved to be a fatal mistake.
When Johan turned 11 and didn’t receive his Hogwarts letter, it was clear to the family that he really was a squib. This blew up a gunpowder keg in the foundations of the family. His father accused his mother of cheating on him, because he could never have had a squib for a son. The carelessness Wolfgang had grown accustomed to crumbled overnight, as his father stormed out of the house with one suitcase and his oldest son in tow.
Wolfgang felt betrayed. Diane convinced him that his father was wrong and that she had always been faithful to him, but the teen didn’t know who to believe. He decided to take it upon himself to figure out who was telling the truth.
In short, sometimes he wished he’d never made that choice. It turned out that his father was a liar. He had been the one cheating, for years, with several other women from the Ministry, all while his wife worked from home, thinking that he was busy preparing their eldest for a bright future.
As the years went by, Wolfgang set on a path to ruin his father’s life. Once Wolfgang turned 16, he delivered the final blow to his father - he bribed a werewolf into biting his father, and forged letters, making it seem like his father was a part of some group of werewolves trying to infiltrate the Ministry. It was enough to send his father to the gutter.
It was the day he decided he’d trade in secrets and rumors for a living. Seeing his father ruined felt ecstatic, and there was no stopping him now.
At first, people see a taut young man with dark hair, darker eyes, pale skin in contrast, and a charming smile to finish the look. Standing at 178 cm, that is, 5 foot 10, he's well built for his age, exercise in the Quidditch pitch and beyond keeping his body in check. His back is straight, chin is up and eyes sparkle with curiosity. He walks at a quick pace, his movements elegant and firm. His smile is wide, but not obtrusive as if it was a silent invitation - "Come, let's talk, if you'd like to!". Always dressed in blazers and button-up shirts, preferring muggle clothing, Wolfgang looks like he wouldn't be amiss in a high society party in the non-wizarding world. He knows this and is proud of it, and it is his main tool whenever he gets bored and wants to have some fun of the earthly kind.
In addition to dressing smart, he also likes to wear cologne. None of the “dark, mysterious and manly” perfumes that are described by words that only the Herbology professor would know the meaning of. He prefers a light perfume that smells of oranges. Even his laundry detergent smells of oranges, but it is never, ever overwhelming. He has no desire to smell like a livingroom on Christmas eve.
His face reminds some of a raven, some of a fox, and yet others - of a German Shepherd. He saw nothing of the sort, but it wasn't for him to decide. Either way he would have liked it much more if someone had decided to call him "statuesque".
Wolfgang cares about his appearance. His dark brown hair is soft, tended to with the best shampoo he can afford, washed daily. The only oil that ever gleams on his hair is his hair gel, and then only on days when he adds more than necessary for one reason or another. He prefers to keep it long enough for it to be able to be swept over and parted at the side, unless it's the day of a Quidditch match. It is his little ritual - cutting his hair short the night before and in the morning spiking in up with that same gel. It would grow back overnight - he is a wizard, after all.
The next thing that catches people’s attention are his eyes. A warm dark brown with a shade of red to it, most accurately compared to a dark amber. They're almond shaped, not too big nor small, albeit with a tendency to squint. Nature hadn't gifted him with very dark eyelashes, but had made it up with his eyebrows. His are as dark as his hair, straight, giving his warm gaze an alluring quality.
Nestled comfortably in between his eyes is his long and narrow nose, with a rounded triangle for the tip. From a distance it looked chiseled, but upon closer inspection a slight curve to the right (or left, if you were him) is noticeable. And if you got uncomfortably close, you'd see that his nose is peppered with faint pockmarks. That's the one thing he doesn’t like about himself, but magical diseases left marks that were hard to get rid of. And not like people care very much for his nose anyways.
His lips - narrow and on the thin side, a muted shade of pink that fits nicely with his pale skin, though often they have small indents from biting and in winter the corners would get painfully chapped, since he has an unconscious habit to lick them.
All of this is framed by a strong, wide jawline, shaped as a triangle with a rounded end, as if it was mimicking his nose on a larger scale. Above it, a wide forehead that's usually on full display underneath the waves of his hair and a small, dark brown freckle on his right cheek, aligned with both the middle of his eye and his nose. It's very rare that Wolfgang would sport a beard - he is just 16 and he's a couple years away from being able to sport a full blown beard. And nobody likes those terrible mustaches, right?
One last bit to remark about him is his voice. If he could sing, he would be a baritone. He knows how to control his voice, but usually it has a pleasant tone, one any manager in client service would love to have for an employee. Yet sometimes every word can sound like it’s covered in honey, and too much of a good thing can be bad.
He’s a native English speaker, but, since his father and grandfather had a strong German accent, it has slipped into his own speech just a little bit. It’s the little things that don’t happen often, a “w” turning into a “v”, “th” to “z” and some diphthongs turning into simple vowels and syllables stressed the wrong way.
