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Peter Klein
Winterfold Pack
12 Oct 1968
In 1941, a wealthy eccentric with a fairy tale obsession and way too much time on his hands came up with a rather idiosyncratic response to WWII. Fearing that the magical community would be next on Hitler's list, Gerhardt Werner let his paranoia lead him, and many of his financial dependents, deep into the Black Forest. At first, they were simply living regular wizards' lives within protective magical barriers. But, with time, Werner slipped further and further into his particular brand of delusion. Magic could be tracked, he said, so it had to be used sparingly. He had both the charisma and the lunacy of a typical cult leader. While some of the people left as the war ended, others stayed either because they viewed Werner as something of a messiah or because they simply liked their strange fairy tale life.

Surprisingly enough, the weird little fringe community survived Werner's death. The people started using more magic again, but they also liked working with their hands and staying away from the hectic bustle of modernity. Children were taught outdoorsy skills, then sent off to the Akademie der Zauberei, and eventually decided for themselves whether they wanted to stay in their strange hamlet or go out into the regular world.

This is the community Peter grew up in. As a result, his childhood was essentially that of a character from one of Grimm's fairy tales. He excelled at bow-hunting, was a decent carpenter, and proved abysmal at identifying edible plants.

At the age of eleven, he started his magical education at Akademie der Zauberei. He was strongest at Transfiguration and weakest at Potions and Herbology. He made some friends, had some fun, and was overall average. During the summers, he returned home to his fairy tale village life.

It was during the summer after his third year that everything changed. As a fourteen-year-old, Peter was considered old enough to participate in the monthly watch against werewolves. In June, everything was quiet. In July, however, there was an attack. Many of the men were killed, but Peter was discovered underneath the corpse of his father, badly mauled and barely alive.

His mother wanted to let him die. After all, if he lived, he would become a monster. Others disagreed, though. Certainly he would be cast out of the community if he lived, but they were not killers. They had a moral responsibility to treat his wounds and do their best to preserve his life.

It was a long and difficult recovery but, a few months later, Peter was deemed healthy enough to be sent away. They let him take his bow and arrows and a pack with some clothing and tools, but they made it absolutely clear that, if he ever returned, he would be promptly killed. With that, the villagers considered their moral duty discharged.

Peter had no idea what to do. He wanted to try going back to school, but he didn't know how to get there, and he felt quite certain that they wouldn't want him back, anyway. Werewolves were not exactly popular. So he set off into the forest where he lived by himself for many years, making great use of his bow and his various survival skills. Given that he only had three years of magical education, he was better able to get by using his hands rather than his wand.

Peter was twenty years old when he met Quincy, a rich young Englishman who had recently graduated from Hogwarts. Quincy was on his graduation tour of Europe, and he'd gotten himself hopelessly lost in the Black Forest. He would have died there if Peter hadn't found him and led him out.

Grateful and fascinated, Quincy offered to take Peter back to England with him. Peter didn't understand much of what the foreigner was trying to say, but it sounded like an interesting adventure, so he packed up his things and followed along. Quincy began Peter's informal English lessons, and they took a trip on a big boat, and, by the time Peter fully realized what was going on, it was too late.

Thus he found himself in a completely unfamiliar world, living what was essentially Pygmalion. Bored rich-boy Quincy had a great time "civilizing" the German werewolf from the Black Forest. Peter learned English, practiced magic, ate off fancy china, and started taking Wolfsbane Potion. The better he got at English, the more fully he understood how Quincy viewed and talked about him. They weren't friends. Peter was just his interesting little pet, his project, his "thing" that he used to get girls into conversation.

Maybe that would have been all right ... if not for the Wolfsbane. Every month, Peter hated it more. It was wrong, unnatural. It tasted like poison and it forced him to go against every wolfish instinct he had. He knew he wouldn't be able to stay forever.

Having decided to leave, Peter doubled down on his English lessons, studying with a heretofore unseen fervor. He was firmly conversational by the time he had his last experience with Wolfsbane. As he lay staring out a window at the moon, transformed but trapped, he had a sort of waking nightmare. He was clapped in irons and thrown into a tiny box and buried alive. He couldn't. He couldn't let this happen. He had to leave. His instinctual nature was dying a slow, painful death.

The next day, while Quincy was out, Peter packed up his things and left. He didn't know where he would go. He just knew that he had to get away from the potion. He walked a long way, slept under the trees at night, and hunted in the early mornings. He was looking for a suitably isolated, forested place to make his home.

He found something even better: the Werewolf Army. For the first time in his life, he met other werewolves in human form. Finally, he felt again that same sense of peace and belonging he used to feel in his idyllic village. He had no opinions or knowledge whatsoever regarding blood purity or Voldemort. Peter just wanted to stay with the other werewolves. He would do whatever was necessary to make that happen.

When he found Isadora in the woods, of course he wanted her to join them. Peter had strange feelings toward Isadora. Since he was the one who'd found her, a large part of him considered her his. He taught her what she needed to know, and even though he brought her into the army, he kept her somewhat isolated from them. He didn't realize it, but he wanted her dependent on him. He was possessive and made it clear to the other men that Isadora was his female. But he didn't make any kind of romantic or sexual moves on her.

Unfortunately, they were separated at the Battle of Hogwarts, and Peter was injured and left unconscious. He awoke in custody and spent the next few years in Azkaban where he was, once again, forced to take Wolfsbane Potion. But he remained stealthy from his years of bow-hunting and, during the chaos of the jailbreak in 2001, he took his opportunity to run. Having been forcibly registered as a werewolf during his vacation at taxpayers' expense, Peter knew that he had to get deep into the woods as quickly as possible. He got his hands on a knife and, over time, made himself a fine bow and a set of arrows. He traded meat for clothing and tools and, after about a year, he felt confident and safe enough to get out of survival mode and start thinking about Isadora.

Through asking the right questions of the right sketchy people - and plying them with meat - Peter managed to find the Winterfold Pack and Isadora. With her as his "sponsor," the Winterfold wolves didn't kill him, but now he's living a deeply uncomfortable role reversal. The Winterfold Pack was Isadora's home before it was his. Sometimes he just wants to run off with her and make their home in the woods somewhere. But it's nice to have a group, a family.

It's a confusing dance now, figuring out his dynamic with Isadora, but he certainly isn't going to go away from her.

Magical Status Form

Magical Status: WEREWOLF

Werewolf Form: Standard
Werewolf Size: 5'8" long & 150 lbs.

Form & Size Elaboration: Peter has been a werewolf since 1983 and would certainly have developed a dire form by now if it weren't for the years he spent in Azkaban regularly taking Wolfsbane Potion. He spent a considerable portion of his formative years living alone in the Black Forest where he hunted, took care of himself, and had little to no human contact. As a result, he is extremely aggressive with hair-trigger fighting instincts. He didn't eat many people during his Black Forest years, since he was sufficiently far away from them, but he certainly did eat people during his Werewolf Army years. His wolf form is, however, on the smallish side given that he is fairly short in his human form.


9" - Hazel - Phoenix Tail Feather (snapped at Azkaban)

Educational History

Akademie der Zauberei, 1980-1983

Face Claim

Rossif Sutherland

Additional Notes




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