Hatred

Hatred like none he had ever known coursed through him as he stared at the man before him. The man was claiming to be a muggle, a homeless man at that, and the others in the room were lapping up his lies. Lyall knew different. This, thing, was one of them. Lyall tried to tell the others on the committee but they laughed, calling him paranoid.

Lyall's anger got the better of him when the werewolf smirked at him, and he exploded, ranting about the soulless evil beings werewolves were. He knew he was right, he had to be. What good could ever come of letting werewolves live, he questioned.

Those two muggle children, the very reason this werewolf sat in the room with them now, were proof of that.

As Lyall was escorted from the room, as he left the Ministry for the evening, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had just made a huge mistake.

xxxx

"REMUS! NO! Stupefy, Impedimenta, REMUS!" Lyall screamed as he run into his sons room. Fenrir Greyback, the man he had once called a soulless evil being, was mauling his boy, his only son. As Lyall forced the werewolf away, his wife came into the room, and between them, they managed to save Remus life.

The next full moon, Lyall's worst nightmare came true. His son was one of them.

What could he do? He tried, over the years, to find a cure, but of course he never did. Strangely enough, the thought of abandoning his son never even crossed his mind, not even when they moved for the seventh time, trying to keep his 'condition' a secret. Not once, did the hatred he usual harbored to all Werewolves ever reflect on how Lyall felt about his son.

But the hatred he felt for Fenrir Greyback never ended.