The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition- Season 2 Round 10
Team: Falmouth Falcons
Author: MaryRoyale
Position: Beater #2
Round 10 Challenge: The Ministry of Magic Round—Beater #2 was assigned the Beast Division, which is under the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
Prompts: ghost, "Hungry Like the Wolf" by Duran Duran, and "I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me." –Outsiders, by S.E. Hinton
Title: Beast or Being?
Official Disclaimer: The original characters of this story are the property of the J.K. Rowling. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. It is my contention that this work of fan fiction is fair use under copyright law. No monies received for receipt of this work.
Pairing: None
Rating: T
Word Count: approx. 1650
A/N: There are times when prompts scream at me to choose them, and this is one of those times. I happen to love '80's music so I was familiar with "Hungry Like the Wolf", but I couldn't remember when it had come out. I looked it up and discovered that the song was released in May of 1982, barely six months after the deaths of James, Lily, and (supposedly) Peter. It made me wonder what Remus's emotional state would have been like at the time—how the lyrics of this song would have affected him—and you all ended up with this story.
Also, if you think the Anti-werewolf laws are weird... they're all real laws that were on the books in England during the 17th century during the Anti-Catholic polemics. I just switched "Catholic" to werewolf. Well, except the one about brooms. That actually read "A Catholic may not own a horse that is worth more than five pounds sterling." I figured the type of hate and vitriol that was aimed at the Catholics might be similar to that which the Ministry of Magic would aim toward werewolves. A lot of what JKR hinted at as far as restrictions against werewolves seem to echo some of these laws.
/\/\/\/\/\
London, July 31, 1982
Light filtered through too-thin curtains and picked out a huddled figure curled up on a bed that had seen better days; the sheets were worn and the mattress was lumpy and uncomfortable. To someone for whom texture and sensation were heightened it was akin to sleeping on an uneven pile of rocks. Remus groaned and gave up the pretense of trying to sleep. He rubbed wearily at his eyes and turned to the alarm clock. Two minutes before it was set to go off. Lovely. The perfect start to what was already set to be a miserable, awful day for him. Most days he was able to push the ghosts of the past into a tiny box and keep them there; he had to if he wanted to be able to function. Today was not going to be one of those days.
If anyone had bothered to ask him Remus would have to admit that he had been so sunk in a fog of grief that he never even noticed when January 30th came and went, nor March 27th. Now he was just healed enough to mark the day and remember what it meant to him.
Loss. He glared at his calendar and noticed that he had circled Monday in red. Frustration leaked through him. Being a werewolf in wizarding Britain was… extremely unpleasant. It was difficult to find people who were willing to give you three or four days off in a row every single month. They became suspicious, and then suddenly they were oh, so sorry, but they had to let you go. Remus had tried, Merlin knew that he had tried, but it happened every time.
Before—James had helped. He had a substantial inheritance from his parents, and Lily was uncomfortable living in the Manor, especially after Mr and Mrs Potter had been murdered there. The upkeep on their little cottage in Godric's Hollow was completely taken care of by James' Auror salary. James had been happy to help, and after being fired one too many times Remus had reluctantly accepted.
If anyone had bothered to ask Remus he wouldn't have given a toss about the stupid money if it meant having James and Lily and Peter were alive—if it meant that his best friend hadn't betrayed them all and murdered everyone he cared about in the world. If he had his friends—his family—he wouldn't be reduced to his current situation… going to the Werewolf Support Services in the Being Division in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Ruthlessly Remus stomped on the grief and self-pity, and shoved it down deep. Thinking about all of that did nothing for him. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face wearily. There was only one good thing about today and Remus was going to focus on that.
"Happy Birthday, Harry," he muttered. "Wherever you are."
/\/\/\/\
Office of Werewolf Support Services, Being Division, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Ministry of Magic, London, August 2, 1982
The Office of Werewolf Support Services was tiny, dingy, and shoved in a back corner of the Being Division. It was fairly obvious that this place received pitiful funding. The wizard sitting at the single desk appeared apathetic at best. He was thin, balding, and had a vaguely wispy appearance.
"Name?" The wizard asked in a dry voice.
"Remus Lupin." He could feel a dull flush creep up his neck and was grateful that no one was here to see this.
"Registration number?" The wizard continued his quill scratching against the parchment.
"I—what?" Remus paused in confusion.
"You did register, did you not?" The wizard frowned up at him.
"Register?" Remus frowned back.
"Yes, with the Werewolf Registry in the Beast Division," the wizard explained.
The dull flush grew darker and crept higher into his cheeks. "The Beast Division?"
The wizard gave a little snort of contempt. "Well, you certainly couldn't have that in the Being Division."
"But you're in the Being Division," Remus pointed out in a tightly controlled voice.
"Of course," the wizard sniffed.
Remus ground his teeth together and fought to control the urge to throttle the pompous little wizard in front of him. "Where is the Beast Division?"
"Here on level 4. It's just down the hall on your right," the wizard replied.
Office of Werewolf Registry, Beast Division, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Ministry of Magic, London, later the same day
There was a strong resemblance between the Office of Werewolf Support Services and the Office of Werewolf Registry. They were both dingy and small. Both had a sense of being unused—a sort of lingering staleness to the air that made one long to throw open a window. Again, Remus was the only person in the room; save for a small, pinch-faced man that he could only assume was the Registrar. There was a suspicious gleam in the other wizard's eye that made Remus nervous.
"Can I help you?" The wizard frowned at him over the counter.
"Er, yes." Remus gave him a weak smile. "I have a, erm, a friend who has recently been turned, and I've come to pick up some brochures for him." He couldn't say what led him to lie to the Registrar, but he had a feeling that he shouldn't tell the man why he was there.
"I see." The wizard eyed him skeptically. "Well, I suppose he'll want all of these then." The Registrar started pulling out little pamphlets and brochures and made a neat pile on the counter.
Laws and Acts Regarding Werewolves caught Remus' eye and he picked up the pamphlet and began to read.
No werewolf may hold public office.
No werewolf may hold a position in the Ministry of Magic.
Werewolves may not serve in the Wizengamot. Further, werewolves may not vote on the Wizengamot.
Werewolves may not attend Hogwarts. Further, werewolves may not leave the country to attend foreign educational institutions.
Werewolves may not hold the following professions: lawyer, judge, teacher, healer.
Werewolves may not hold a mastery in any subject.
Werewolves may not own a broom worth more than five galleons.
Werewolves cannot be granted custody of orphan children.
Werewolves cannot purchase wizarding properties.
Werewolves cannot inherit wizarding properties.
Any residence for a werewolf must be built away from wizarding families and communities.
A Werewolf may not marry an unafflicted witch or wizard.
A cold sensation went down Remus' spine and he recognized it as fear. This would be his life if he registered. Governed and cordoned to within an inch of his life. He doubted that the Werewolf Support Services would be able to alleviate any of the hardships created by these laws. Merlin help him because the Ministry of Magic certainly wasn't going to do so. He fought to control an involuntary shudder and gathered up all of the pamphlets.
"Thank you," he muttered. "You've been most helpful."
"Of course," the little wizard blustered. "That's what we're here for."
/\/\/\/\
The Beast Division and its offices of Werewolf Registry and the Werewolf Capture Unit haunted Remus both sleeping and waking. He ended up wandering the streets of London pacing aimlessly as he searched inside himself for answers. He was hopelessly lost, and he had no idea what to do. He wished that James or Peter were still here. Merlin, there were even days when he wished for Sirius' brash good humor. Walking in Muggle London was a way for him to escape—hopefully a way to find himself again. His stomach gurgled embarrassingly loudly and he sighed. There a cheap fish and chips shop just down the street. Remus was sure he had just enough to pay for a quick lunch. He opened the door and the radio blasted the lyrics to a current pop song that made him cringe every time he heard it.
"I'm on the hunt down after you," the girl behind the counter sang along with the radio.
Remus rolled his eyes. These people had no idea what it was like to be him. He stood in line quietly, ordered his food, and sat at one of the rickety little tables. Absently, he picked up the bottle of malt vinegar and sprinkled over his fish and chips. He ate methodically, the sour taste of the vinegar barely registering on his tongue.
The wizarding world couldn't decide if he was a Being or a Beast. When he was younger he might have agreed with them, but the love and support of his friends had changed all of that. Forcing him to register as a werewolf to receive any sort of support would place him in an untenable position. The Ministry would dictate where he lived, what he did for a living, and every other possible aspect of his life, but what was the alternative? Perhaps it would be for the best if he registered with the Ministry. Perhaps it wouldn't be as bad as it seemed?
A dry, slightly bitter chuckle rattled about in his chest before it died. ""I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me," he whispered.
The truth was that Remus wasn't willing to live that way. He refused to let the pompous gits in the Beast Division tell him which broom he was allowed to buy. He was just going to have to hide the fact that he was a werewolf. Maybe he could get odd jobs here in Muggle London. Maybe it would be best if he left wizarding Britain for a little while. It wasn't as though there was anything holding him here any longer.