A/N: This story was written for The Houses Competition, Year 3, Round 5.
House: Gryffindor
Year: Head Girl
Category: Drabble
Prompts: 5. [Character] Fenrir Greyback
Word count: 734 words (written on Google docs)
Betas: Thank you to CK (Theoretical-Optimist) for beta'ing! Xx
Additional A/N: This is an AU in that it's not confirmed whether or not Fenrir was a Muggle or wizard originally (someone did tell me once he possessed a wand, but all we see in canon is him and his werewolf tendencies, and when he's trialled at the Ministry, no one recognises him as a former student of Hogwarts and he passes for a Muggle tramp), so I have cast him as either a Muggle or Muggleborn in this case—living with a Muggle family. This is a companion piece to one I wrote a few years ago in a way, where I believe that Fenrir could've been nice, if a tiny bit self-centred, as a little boy. This is set in the 1950s around when he was roughly born/ a child, and of course during those times electroshock therapy was a common 'solution' to any difference in mentality.
Set after he has been a werewolf for a few years. I know, I know, you're probably wondering how his parents never saw his transformations. Simply put, being Muggle and living in respectable society, they don't believe in things like werewolves, and Fenrir (as explained in the story), could easily escape and transform in the forest behind their house unnoticed. Any irregular behaviour is played off as him having Lycanthropy (which, of course, I hope to treat as respectfully as possible within this story).
I also do not condone hunting in any shape or form, but in this instance, I think his father would be the type (in my head) to enjoy it as a disgusting sport.
He Doesn't Understand
He doesn't understand why his father is yelling—he was just having fun.
Fenrir cowers away from his father's belt, his backside still stinging from the previous lash.
"How many times have I told you, boy, not to make such a racket?" His father leers over him.
"What's going on, Thomas?"
Thankfully, his mother walks in and wraps her arms around Fenrir. Instantly, he feels a little less scared.
"He's been howling at the bloody moon again."
"All seven-year-olds play games..."
His father shakes his head. "Normal boys don't go around pretending they're wolves for years! He's nothing but a dirty, rotten liar, and I won't put up with it any longer."
The man still doesn't believe that he got attacked by a wolf two years earlier, or that he somehow turns into a wolf himself. He's angry when he has 'nightmares' during the full moon, so now Fenrir hides in the forest behind their house whenever his body starts to ache.
When his father storms away, his mother kisses him and whispers, "No more wolf games, alright?"
He doesn't understand why his teacher is punishing him—they were only playing.
Fenrir glares at his friend as the teacher lands another strap of her ruler across his palms. It stings, but he knows it won't hurt as much as his father's belt will when he finds out he's gotten into trouble again.
It's all Johnny's fault; the blond had told him to prove he was a wolf. Fenrir had only tackled and bitten him because he wouldn't listen. He didn't bite hard, either; Johnny had been laughing until the teacher came over.
Johnny's still pretending to cry, and now Fenrir thinks he should've bitten him harder.
"I want you to stay here so everyone can see what shameful behaviour gets you," his teacher says.
He's tempted to bite her, too.
He doesn't understand why he's been sent to his room—it was his kill, after all.
He paces his room, itching to climb out of the window again. He's been going to the forest a lot lately, even when he doesn't change.
Licking his lips—he can still taste the yummy blood—he listens to his parents fighting.
"You need to do something, Moira, or so help me, I will!"
His father shouldn't be angry. He'd been happy when Fenrir had trapped the hare all by himself. It was his kill; why shouldn't he have taken the first bite?
"It's just a phase," his mother says.
"He's feral!"
His father's words sting, and he wishes his voice would go back to the proud tone it had held earlier.
He doesn't understand why his mother is crying—the doctors in white coats aren't that mean.
Fenrir admits he doesn't like the way they keep using big words he doesn't know, like 'asylum,' 'clinical lycanthropy,' and 'electroshock therapy.' But when they'd said he had to do a test, they let him play games instead. One of them, Doctor Morgan, even asked him about how he could turn into a wolf, and it's nice that someone finally believes him.
His mother blows her nose as the doctor with grey hair says, "You're doing the right thing; he needs to know it isn't real. Currently, he poses a great threat to himself and to other children."
Fenrir wonders who the doctor is talking about, but then Doctor Morgan holds out another crayon, and he happily finishes his drawing of himself as a wolf.
He's getting bored of drawing. He just wants to go home and run around in the forest outside his house. He wishes his mother would hurry back to the room so they can leave.
Sighing, he walks over to the window. He can see his mother standing in front of the large, pointed fence outside, talking to the grey-haired doctor.
Fenrir taps on the window as she exits the gate. "Mummy! I'm still here!"
He finally gets her attention, and she looks at the window. She is still crying, but she waves at him. She then turns to the grey-haired doctor, who nods at her.
She turns her back and keeps walking.
Fenrir's heart plummets and he pounds on the window again. "Mummy! Mummy!"
"Enough of this foolishness." Hands are trying to pry him away, but he kicks at them and tries to open the window.
"Mummy!"
He doesn't understand why his mother won't turn around. Doesn't she want him anymore?
