Lyall had sat quietly in the corner for the bulk of the interview, content to watch and listen.
And he saw it all: the contempt for authority, the eccentricity, the pupil dilation at the sight of anyone from young Joan Errid to aging Gerald Andrews. Greyback even growled at one point.
A poor Muggle. Yeah, right. Lyall was married to a Muggle, for Merlin's sake. He knew how Muggle's behaved. Fenrir Greyback was no Muggle.
So when the committee started the preliminary votes, he was sure they had all seen the signs, too. After all, this was their area of expertise.
But they had all voted in Greyback's favor, and Lyall's polite arguments had been laughed away.
Greyback smirked in Lyall's face, and his collegues refused to see what was right in front of their eyes.
"You are all blind," he had finally accused, but they merely laughed.
"Werewolves are soulless, evil creatures," Lyall screamed as Greyback was escorted out. "They deserve nothing but death!"
Greyback had proven him right by turning his son into a werewolf, but Remus had proven him wrong with every smile.
The end is a little cheesy, but I like it. Written for the Tien Len Competition and The Merchant of Venice for the Inspiration by Shakespeare Competition.