March 13th, 1965.

At first my memories of that day were hazy, but after a trip in The Pensieve I remember that day I was bitten like it was yesterday. Nothing extraordinary happened until Father returned from his job after two whole days at the office, in an uncharacteristically vengeful mood. Me and Mother were just competing to see who exactly could finish off the last of my carrot cake before the other before the loud slam of the screen door upon the doorway mixed in with dark muttering. Mother and I shared an anxious glance.

I had always thought of my Father as much too genial and far too clever to ever lose his temper up until that day. No matter what type of day he had had at the Ministry up to that point, he always went out of his way to pick me up and give me a big hug, pecking Mother on the cheek and reminding us both how lucky he was as he did so. The man I idolized was still there, but perverted by utmost loathing to the point where one of my two heroes was an ugly brute towering over his loved ones.

Father entered the room cursing the hat rack he had stubbed his toe against and tossing his briefcase onto the counter as if the entire house was against him. He then moved onto the refrigerator in search of his favourite brand of ice cream sandwich only to find none. The refrigerator door was summarily slammed shut and Father rose up shaking his head with disdain and seemingly complained to no one in particular how the ice cream always seemed to run out when he least expected it, oblivious to his confused and scared family.

Mother cleared her throat nervously and spoke up.

"Bad day at work, Lyall dearest?"

Father turned on his heel and glared at Mother, gnashing his teeth as he did so.

"Yes."

He strode over to the table and poured himself some Tomato soup.

"Did the trial go poorly?"

"Very."

"What happened?"

Father banged his fist on the table and shouted;

"FUCKING FENRIR GREYBACK GOT OFF, THAT'S WHAT!"

Me and Mother both jumped, startled.

"I wasted weeks putting together that case! I could just tell there was something fishy about him, and suggested they at least investigate the possibility that he's responsible but those idiots just took that-that for his savage word! And insisted that I, I apologize to that PIECE OF SHIT they call a human being!"

It was at this point Mother rushed over to me in fear, but Father still didn't notice, continuing his tirade against Fenrir Greyback and his fellow employees at The Ministry.

"It really, really, really fucking pisses me off, how goddamn limp-wristed the Wizengamot is. I work SO HARD, show up early when I can because I love my job, but they don't care! They just don't fucking care! Why listen to the guy who actually knows what he's talking about, tell HIM he's out of order when he recognizes a WEREWOLF for the soulless monster he really is!"

It was at this point I piped up;

"Daddy, what's a Werewolf?"

Father turned around to face me and stated plainly;

"Son, a Werewolf is a monster. They're look human most of the time like you or me at first, but come full moon they turn into a freakish half-human, half-wolf hybrid that'll kill you as soon as look at you. The only comfort I take is that these creatures are soulless, and therefore can't go to heaven like you or I when they die. We should really round up the whole rotten lot of them in Azkaban and throw away the key so they'll all die out and we can be rid of their kind forever."

Mother paled at this.

"Lyall!" She said, appalled. "You shouldn't be saying things like this in front of Remus. He's sensitive, you could give him nightmares!"

Father rolled his eyes in exasperation at this suggestion.

"Hope, you can't shelter the boy forever. He needs to know that there are real monsters in the world, so he can be ready. So he knows who he should associate with when he goes off to Hogwarts and beyond. You see a Werewolf walking up to me, boy, scream bloody murder and I'll be right there to finish him off for you. No one, and I mean NO ONE, threatens my little boy. Got that?"

I nodded my head vigorously to show I understood. All of the sudden, a weird twitch crossed his face and he put his hands over his head. Mother cautiously snuck up by his side.

"I saw...pictures of the bodies. Two Muggle kids were in a playground, jumping jacks or something, and then HE came, convinced them to go into the forest. Then…"

Father shuddered horribly as if trying to shake off his bad memory.

"He…"played" with them before they died. The girl was beheaded and the boy bled out because he was tortured so badly. Then...then he ate parts of them. Those kids had nothing to do with him, he did it just because it was easy. And then he walked into court and acted like he was a Muggle, like he was horrified to hear about it. And they let him off."

Mother's grip on Father's shoulder grew even tighter.

"I'm so sorry you had to grow through that. Couldn't have been easy."

Father tensed, then relaxed.

"Thanks, Hope. I-I'm sorry about being such a weenie earlier. It's not you or Remus' fault, what's happening at work. Just really scares me to see good people do nothing, y'know? Can you forgive me?"

Mother nodded. I mimicked her and clutched Father shoulder as well. He smiled.

"I really am the luckiest man in the world. Now, who wants to go out for some apology ice cream?"

Good save. Ice cream is amazing.