James was beginning to feel like he'd been under Fenrir's thumb just about long enough. Made him feel like his return to the proverbial nest was outliving its usefulness. His former pack were starting to integrate with Fenrir's, but James still had a few holdouts that wanted him to find a separate lair and start over. Fenrir was insisting James lay low and behave. James was itching to get out on his own. He'd spent months in Fenrir's lair in the catacombs, and now he was tired of it. He wanted to see daylight.
"Make yourself useful," Fenrir growled at James, seeing James' restlessness. "Take the cubs out and teach them to hunt."
"I'll teach them to hunt, alright," James snarled.
"Oi!," Fenrir commanded, rising, still able to intimidate every werewolf in the lair, including James. "No more messes. Understand me? You make one more screw up and I'll take you out myself."
James had no doubt Fenrir still could do just that. Fenrir motioned to a handful of Hogwarts' dropouts. Lads that might have been graduating in another year or two, had James not made off with them a couple years ago while they were smaller. James had turned them, and now the boys had nowhere to go but to live with the werewolves who had seen sense in banding together in this day and age for pure survival.
James and Fenrir actually provided fairly well for this pack. They were all well fed usually, they were clothed, and they were never in need of warmth of shelter. Fenrir kept a tight reign on the pack's money, but everyone had access to some funds of their own.
The boys got up and moved over towards James, obeying Fenrir, but they knew better than to get within arm's reach of James. James was quick and sometimes deadly, even with his own, just to make a point.
"You bring them back," Fenrir said sternly to James. "We didn't turn them to lose them."
"I know how to raise a cub," James said.
"We'll see about that," Fenrir said. He motioned them to leave. James led the way up into the alley and then climbed up the fire escape to the rooftops of the buildings of Diagon Alley. He breathed in the winter cold, glad for the change.
"Storm's coming," he told the four teens with him. "Good hunting weather. Humans panicking, not thinking--and getting careless."
"Let's turn someone important!" One of the cubs said to him excitedly, peering down at the wizards and witches below, all rushing about with their children.
"Nah," James said casually, taking more care than the cubs to not be seen. "This is your first hunt. Start small. You've got time. Let's see if you can manage to take an ickle or two." They groaned, bored. Younger kids were no challenge, they thought. "Well, if its so easy, then, prove me wrong. Get your ickles, and then we'll see if you're ready for grownups. Now get down before you're seen." He motioned them to move back away from view.