Fenrir
A few of the pack had gone out that afternoon after they all woken up and returned to the old farm where they had their base for the moment. They'd returned with food, beer and however many editions of the Prophet had been released that day, proving that Fenrir had trained his pups well in the important things in life.
He lounged on the tattered but comfortable sofa in the living room with a six-pack of beer sitting beside him on the floor, kept mostly cold by a half-arsed cooling charm, the remains of a meal on the rickety coffee table and the morning's Prophet in his hand. He chuckled as he read the article, though he snorted at the assumption that the Aurors had anything to do with 'dispersing the pack'. He mentally moved the Aurors up a little bit higher on his list of potential targets. Let's see how they'd do against a real challenge. He grabbed a beer and took a long drink as he flipped the page and moved on to the rest of the news.