Chapter 1: An Offense So Great

January 29, 1964

"Lupin, we need your opinion here, mate," came a voice from the doorway. Lyall Lupin looked up from his dark creatures research, his eyes blinking rapidly as he brought his mind up to speed.

"What was that, Zander?" he asked.

"The aurors have brought a man in for questioning over those muggle children who were mauled to death a few days ago. He was found with a wolf pack, and was the only one they were able to catch. He swears he's only a muggle bum. A… a hobo, or some such thing, was what he said. We thought you might have some insight, as we aren't completely sure that he isn't a muggle," said Zander Michaels, a clerk in the Magical Law Enforcement division.

"Oh. Oh, sure, Zander. I will be along shortly." Lyall Lupin marked his place in his notes and gathered up a folder labeled Werewolf Registry and his glasses, and jogged down the hallway to the interview rooms. Pausing at the door, Lupin took in the figures in the room. Randolf Drone, a wizard defense magistrate, Zander, and an old auror whose name Lupin didn't know sat with their backs to the door. Across from them, a scruffy, tattered man hunched in a chair, his hands below the table, his eyes flicking quickly around the room.

He was dressed in a ripped and stained overcoat in the muggle style, whose buttons were missing. Underneath, he wore a stained blue shirt, and on his head sat a battered, filthy bowler hat that had once been brown. The man's hair was long, greasy and grey, and hung haphazardly over his ears and down to his shoulders. His jowls were covered in rough, grey fuzz, and his eyebrows were surprisingly bushy. His nose had been broken at least once at some point, and had been poorly set, giving his face a crooked look. His skin was pockmarked and scarred, with one old, deep furrow slashing through his eyebrow and down the side of his face. As he watched the man's eyes flit from face to face, Lupin noticed something that had him bursting through the door.

"This creature is no muggle!" he shouted. "This "muggle", as you call him, is a werewolf!" As he spoke, Lupin's hands quickly flipped open the folder he had brought with him. "What is your name, wolf?" Lupin growled harshly, his eyes burning into those of the man at the table.

The man straightened his shoulders and sat back against the chair, showing himself to be very tall and broad-shouldered. He clasped his scarred and gnarled hands together on the table, and settled back like he was going to tell a story. He regarded Lupin with a small, almost imperceptible smirk dancing about his lips, and replied "Greyback. My name is Fenrir Greyback, sir, and I am no werewolf. Werewolves are creatures in monster stories told by nannies and worried mums to frighten their children into bed at night," he said in a soft, even voice. Greyback's eyes met Lupin's, and once again, so quickly Lupin almost missed it, they glowed golden, and then flashed back to brown.

"Liar!" shouted Lupin. "You lie, sir, you ARE a werewolf. Your eyes prove it! And so will this registry. Greyback. Greyback. You must be here somewhere. Greyback," he muttered to himself as his fingers flipped pages. He was so engrossed in the search for Greyback's face staring back at him that he didn't hear Randolf Drone's attempts to get his attention.

"Lupin", he tried, softly. "Lupin!" a little louder the second time. "LUPIN!" Randolf shouted, gripping Lupin's arm to get his attention. By then, Lyall had flipped the last page, and no Greyback was registered in the Werewolf book. No ratty, disfigured face matching the man across the table looked back at him from the pages. Lupin's mind was working furiously to process the lack of Greyback's registration, and missed what Drone was saying. "What was that, sir?" he asked.

"I said, Greyback isn't in the registry. He isn't a werewolf. He's just a muggle. Look at the man, Lyall. He's just a muggle." Drone gestured across the table at Greyback, so Lupin followed his hand with his gaze. It was just a flicker, again, but when Lupin's eyes met Greyback's, they were gold.

"There! There, do you see? His eyes! His eyes change from brown to gold. Werewolves have golden eyes. Golden eyes, whiskers, look at his teeth! I assure you, you will find his teeth to be yellowed and sharpened to points. Did you check his teeth? Or his nails? Look at his nails! With that length, and their pointed, yellow tips? His nails are shaped like claws!" By the time Lupin finished his loud assessment, he was panting.

"Lupin," Randolf said, "Lupin, you're being absurd and incredibly rude. The man claims to be a… a hobo- of course he has whiskers! When and how is he to shave? Same with his teeth and nails. Proper hygiene is nearly impossible when one is a vagrant. And his eyes, Lupin, his eyes are brown. They have been since he was picked up; they have been the entire time he has been in this room. They are BROWN, Lupin. Not gold. Brown. Mr. Greyback is not a werewolf, If he were, the proof would be in your hands, in that registry you brought down with you. You owe Mr. Greyback an apology, and once you have done so, you will leave this room and return to your office. I will speak with you about your outburst later."

Lyall, knowing what he had seen, stared at Mr. Drone with a dumbfounded expression on his face. He knew the "muggle" was a werewolf, he had studied dark creatures. He knew the signs. That was why they had asked his opinion. And now, they were ignoring it. Apologize to the creature? Apologize? The man was off! Lupin looked again at Greyback, taking in the scarred hands and face, and knew that if the man disrobed, he would have similar marks covering the rest of his body.

"Randolf, please," he pleaded. "This man is a werewolf, I'm sure of it. Hold him, just until the full moon. I assure you, I'm right. If you hold him, and he transforms, you will have your answer. It's only twenty four hours. One day, Randolf. Just one day, surely that is a small enough price to pay to be sure? Please, sir. Just one day" Lupin begged, praying that Drone would agree with him.

"Lyall, I just can't do that. I'm sorry. The man has done nothing wrong. He is not a registered werewolf, he isn't even a wizard! He wasn't found with a wand, or wearing robes, or holding any other magical effects. He didn't even know we wizards exist. I have no cause to hold a muggle; it is against our laws, as you well know." Turning to the man across the table, he said "Mr. Greyback, I sincerely apologize for what you have been subjected to today. You are free to go; Mr. Michaels here will see you out." Drone leaned toward the young clerk and whispered something in his ear. Lupin was sure Randolf was reminding Zander to wipe the man's memory, as wizard secrecy was of the utmost importance, and he believed Greyback to be a muggle.

"No! No, you can't let him go, Randolf, please!" Lupin shouted. "Please sir, it's just one day! The full moon is in just twenty-four hours! If you let this man go, sir, and he is a werewolf… Werewolves are scum, sir! They are evil, right down to their souls. They deserve nothing more than death! If Greyback here is a werewolf, and we let him go, how many people will suffer for it? We have a duty to protect every one, wizards and muggles alike, from the scourge of werewolves." Lupin was gripping Drone's arm, pleading with him, a look of terror on his face, and nausea pooling in his belly. All the while, Greyback sat across from him, his hands folded on the table, showing no outward offence except for a small tightening of his facial features.

"That's enough, Lupin!" Randolf shouted, as he wrenched his arm away from his colleague. "You need to leave this room, immediately. I will speak with you later." Drone's face had hardened, his eyes narrowed as he glared at Lupin, who was too busy glaring across the table to notice.

Lyall opened his mouth once more. "I beg you sir, just twenty-four hours. If we let this man go free, and he harms or kills someone…." his voice trailed off.

"Get out Lupin, now. Return to your office, and take that registry with you." Randolf's tone was harsh, and Lyall knew he had lost. Accepting his defeat, he gathered his folder and moved slowly towards the door, his eyes never leaving Greyback's face. As his hand twisted the doorknob, he said one last thing. "I know what you are, monster." He saw that his words made an impact as he stepped into the hallway. Greyback's face tightened, his eyes shrank to small, golden slits. His hands clenched into tight fists, his lips pursed and a wrinkle furrowed itself in Greyback's brow, but he said nothing. Lyall Lupin trudged slowly down the hallway, a feeling of dread taking root deep in his belly.

Lupin returned to his office, but was unable to resume his research. Instead, he sat at his desk and replayed the last half hour in his mind. He knew, without a doubt, that he had just made a very dangerous enemy.

"Mr. Greyback, again, I am so very sorry that you were subjected to Mr. Lupin's outbursts today. Mr. Michaels, Mr. Daily and I do not share Mr. Lupin's conviction. We do not believe that you are anything more than what you say you are. Mr. Michaels here will escort you out," Randolf Drone said. Drone and Daily stood and left the room, Drone heading to Lupin's office, and Daily back to his own. Zander stood, and held an arm out, directing Greyback out into the hallway. Together, they walked to the lifts, and then traveled down to level 7 and the exit. Zander and Greyback exited the building at the red telephone booth, and Zander headed into the alley next door, saying "This way, sir. Follow me, please."

Zander never spoke again. Greyback didn't need a wand to cast a brain scrambling spell. Zander didn't even know what hit him. He was found several hours later, behind the muggle garbage lining the alleyway. There was no sign of violence on his body, no clue as to what befell him. The next day, when Lyall Lupin heard that his young friend was in St. Mungo's, unconscious and unable to tell anyone what happened, Lyall knew. He knew deep in his heart that Fenrir Greyback was responsible.

Lupin looked at the photos on his desk. His wife, Hope, a muggle, whom he had fallen in love with after chasing away a Boggart in a forest several years ago; and their young son, Remus, who would be five soon. The pit that had formed in his stomach the day before after his encounter with Greyback, was still there. And he knew now that that pit would never go away unless Fenrir Greyback did. Lyall's fears were for his family, for his happy, intelligent son, and his beautiful, loving wife. He knew deep in his heart that Greyback was not a creature to take an insult lightly.