April, 1966
“It’s so easy to laugh
It’s so easy to hate
It takes strength to be gentle and kind”
[ Ministry of Magic, London, April 7th 1966 ]
Zac longed to be anywhere else but here.
The room was cold, it smelled, and most importantly, somewhere a child was crying. Miserable. Damn you , Benny. It was sick how he was made to go here every. single. week. Every monday he was sat in this lonely, depressing room for no reason at all but to make sure the Werewolf Support Division kept on running.
‘It was important’ Benny had said. ‘They can’t go there, they’ll get put on the registry’ He would remind Zac when he locked himself in his room at 5.00 am every monday. It was stupid, and unfair, and frankly Zac didn’t give a single fuck if someone got put on the registry. The more werewolves on the registry, the more the ministry believed they had control over werewolves and their packs, the more they stopped searching for anyone that wasn’t on the registry. The more they left Zac and his pack the fuck alone.
But no, he had to stop every single person who came in here and tell them to turns right around.
It was stupid, and tedious since it was four months into the year and one person had tried to come into the division. One. Singular. Person. And they weren’t even a bloody werewolf either.
Zac let out a loud, suffering sigh when the crying got louder. It was like it was coming this way.
Zac froze.
It was like it was coming this way.
He stood up and walked to the entrance, letting the disillusionment charm drop. A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair was marching a small child in Zac’s direction. The child looked to be about four, small and scrawny. But the thing that stood out was the singular wound that went from his left eyebrow, over the bridge of his nose, stopping at the bottom of his left cheekbone. And he was crying. No, sobbing.
He was sobbing in fear.
“Daddy I’m sorry! I’m sorry Daddy I didn’t know! I’m sorry I hurt Mummy I didn’t mean to! I can’t remember but I’m so so sorry! Please don’t take me away. Please let me stay I’ll be good, I’ll be good-”
“Shut up.”
Zac looked more closely at the man. He was about 6’5 and seemed to be in his late thirties. His face was determined but there was something else. Regret? Guilt? Zac didn’t know, but he didn’t seem to happy about what he was about to do. What he was doing.
Anger took route in Zac’s veins. He didn’t know what this poor child had done but two things were obvious. He was a werewolf, and he was about to be put on the registry. And suddenly, just like that, Zac understood why he was here. To stop this from happening. To stop this from ever happening.
Just as the man reached the door Zac stood in his way at the entrance. Golden-brown eyes looked him over warily. Cautiously.
“Hullo.”
Zac raised an eyebrow. “Hi.”
The man looked from Zac, to over his shoulder, to Zac again, and finally to the little boy who’d gone suspicously quiet. Zac looked down and smiled softly at the child. The boy smiled back shyly before seeming to remember something and attempting to hide behind this father’s leg.
“Would you mind moving so I can get past?”
Zac looked at the man and felt his lip curl into a sneer. “Yes I would mind. What’s going on here?”
The man took a defensive stance before answering, “I’m giving in my child to the Support Centre. He just attacked my wife during the full moon.”
Zac was quick with his answer. “What was your wife doing near him during a full moon?”
Golden-brown eyes pierced pale blue unrelentingly. “What does that matter? He hurt her and I can’t keep him if he’s dangerous.”
“‘Keep him’? You don’t ‘keep’ a child, you raise one. You provide a home for one. You protect one. If your child’s dangeorus, then it’s your fault you didn’t protect him well enough that he’s not.”
That seemed to strike a nerve. “How fucking dare you! You have no fucking right to speak to me like that, especially about what I do with my own fucking child! I’d like to see you protect someone from a fucking werewolf, I’d like to see you raise one of them! Now get out of my way before I make you!”
Zac was silent. His fists were clenched, and Kyra’s voice sounded in his head. Ten , nine, eight… one.
“Okay then. Hand him over. I’ll raise hin. No need to put him on the registry. ”
The man seemed to be in a fit or rage, and so when he shouted ‘Fine!’ and stormed off Zac wasn’t overly surprised. It took a couple seconds before he could look at the small boy, and a couple more before he crouched down so they were more-or-less eye level.
“Hi kid. My name is Zac Gardner, I am eighteen years old, and I’m a werewolf too.”
Wide, doe eyes looked up at his. One green, one golden-brown. “‘m Remus Lupin, I’m six years old” - he said this with six fingers held up- “ and I promise I didn’t mean to hurt Mummy.”
Something in Zac’s head clicked. Lupin. Which meant the man from before was Lyall Lupin, and the child’s mother was a muggle called Hope. Which would explain why she tried to interact with her sun during a full. It would aslo explain why Lyall gave him up at the earliest convenience. Zac remembered the words that had been plastered in the daily prophet over two years ago. About werewolves, about dark creatures, about Greyback. Remus was doomed from the start.
Zac took a deep breath. Then another. He wondered mildly what Benny would think when he brought a six-year-old back to him. The pack would be estatic, especially Kyra who always complained about being surrounded by unhygenic males all the time. But Benny? Zac was unsure. He may be here to turn wolves around, but he wasn’t here to bring them home.
“How’d you feel about coming home with me Remus?”
Mismatched eyes stared back at him.
“Okay.”