The Houses Competition: Year 11, Practice Round
House: Slytherin
Class: History of Magic
Category: Drabble
Prompts chosen: [Trope] Friends to enemies
Word Count: 992
Warnings: Anti-Werewolf sentiments that ngl sound a lot like real world discrimination (ableism, homophobia/transphobia, etc), mentions of non-consensual medical experimentation, blood/injury, very mild swearing (one use of the h word), mention of character death
William Lupin was eleven when he met Fenrir. They sat together on the Hogwarts Express. It had been said for years that whoever you sat with was destined to be your best friend while you were at Hogwarts, and that rang true for William and Fenrir. They were both sorted into Ravenclaw, and they did everything together. They studied together, chose the same electives, and played Chaser on the Quidditch team together. It was like they were the same person until their paths diverged at graduation. William went into politics, and Fenrir began studying remedies for magical illnesses. But still, nothing could come between them.
"I'm so glad you could make it Fen," William said, sitting across from his friend in the Golden Hippogriff Café.
Fenrir laughed. "Glad I could make it? You're the one always running around leading campaign polls and doing paperwork! I should be glad you could make it," he said, a joking twinkle in his eyes.
"Ahh, well, someone has to do it," William replied. He shrugged. "Mr. Rosier runs a tight ship in his campaign office. I can't say I'm surprised, given the lengths Kassia Jones will go to to win." He paused before he got completely carried away talking about the politics of the upcoming election. "But enough about me, your work is much more interesting—the way it fluctuates and all."
"You mean I'm flighty and can never stick to one project for long?" Fenrir asked. It almost sounded as if he had truly taken offence to William's words.
"I didn't—"
"No worries, you're completely right. I think this is the one, though," Fenrir said. "The project that I'll finally see through to completion."
"Oh, please do tell me about it," William said, leaning forward in his chair.
"I've been trying to research a cure for Lycanthropy," Fenrir said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "I've been thinking that if we were able to cure it early enough, then we might be able to save the man's mind from becoming that of a beast. Or at the very least, they could be rehabilitated."
"First, you'd have to cure an incurable infection," William said.
"That's the fun part! Doing the impossible," Fenrir said. "And imagine how many lives we could save! With a cure, this disease could be completely eradicated! Think how much better the human race would be without werewolves clinging to the fringes of our society. Their inhuman mindset is infecting people almost as much as their disease is. Surely, you've noticed the pro-werewolf sentiments in Jones' campaign?"
William nodded, leaning back in his chair again. "Changing their classification from beasts to beings, I've noticed. A concerning number of people support her over just this issue.."
"They're corrupting our society. We need to find a way to solve the problem before it becomes worse," Fenrir said. "We've managed to capture one to observe and experiment on, so we might be able to make progress."
"Or we could just kill them all," William said. They both laughed at that for a moment before William sobered up again. "But really, Fenrir, be careful. Werewolves are dangerous beasts, even when it's not a full moon."
Fenrir rolled his eyes but nodded. "I know. I won't let it get near me."
—
William was pulled from sleep by a frantic knock on his front door. A lot had changed in the past five months. Rosier had won the election, and Emily, William's wife, had given birth to their son. In the chaos, William barely had time to see Fenrir, but here he was, on his front porch, in the middle of the night.
Fenrir pushed past him into the house, pressing a cloth to his hand. "I'm sorry to come so late, but I didn't know where else to go," he said.
William rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up. "You're always welcome here," he said. "Did something happen at your flat?"
"Research isn't exactly a lucrative field," Fenrir said. He opened the cupboard that William kept his healing kit in. "I've been staying at the laboratory."
William watched as Fenrir sat at the table, pulled the cloth away from his hand and began pulling bottles out of the healing kit. The injury looked nasty; what could have caused… he looked up at the window where the full moon was shining brightly despite the wispy clouds.
"Fenrir…" he said. He looked back at the bottles Fenrir was pulling out of the healing kit. Dittany and powdered silver. "You shouldn't be here."
"I told you, I didn't know where else to go."
"So you chose to put my family in danger?"
Fenrir rolled his eyes. "I feel no different," he said. "The change must not have started yet."
"If you hadn't changed, you wouldn't think that," William said, pulling his wand out of his pocket. "If you hadn't changed, you wouldn't put my wife and my son in danger." He pointed his wand at Fenrir.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Fenrir said. "It's hardly been fifteen minutes since I was bitten. I'm still me!"
"Get out of my house." William's heart was pounding.
Fenrir stared at him in disbelief for a long moment before that disbelief shifted into an almost animalistic anger. "Go to hell," he growled, standing up abruptly. With that, he left.
—
William hadn't heard from Fenrir for years. Occasionally, there would be rumors about him. Whispers, stories, nothing substantial. His research had been dropped, the werewolf that bit him put down, and his lab repurposed. William pushed him out of his mind, until he came home from visiting Lyall. Lyall had told him the full story. How he had been involved in the trial of a man named Fenrir Greyback, how he was sure Greyback had been a werewolf but nobody believed him, and how he was sure Greyback was the werewolf that had bitten Remus. William was sure, too.
This was personal. Fenrir had stolen Remus from him.