Fenn grinned and winked roguishly at a pretty third year Gryffindor as he swung easily into the thestral-drawn carraiges that would take him to the Hogwarts Express. Fenn’s roommates, Albert, Byron, and Augustus, waited impatiently for him to enter before clambering into the carriage and swinging the door shut.
“Honestly, Fenn,” teased Augustus, rolling his eys. “What would your lovely Arianna think?”
Fenn and his friends had just completed their fourth year at Hogwarts. True to their reputation, Fenn’s fellow Slytherins had quickly become three of the meanest, nastiest boys in their year.
Not Fenn, though. The tall, muscular boy was one of the smartest and best-looking fourth years out of all the four houses, and thus immensely popular amongst boys and girls alike. A Beater on the Slytherin Quidditch team, Fenrir Greyback’s natural talent both on and off the pitch gave him a glowing school-wide reputation. While Fenn could be rude and petty at times, he was easily the nicest boy the Slytherin house had seen in years--a fact that annoyed Augustus to no end.
Despite his ongoing popularity at school, Fenrir Grey looked forward to the time he spent at home more than anything else in the world. He had quickly settled into a routine; at school, he was forced to play the cool and nonchalaunt Slytherin, laughing with his friends at cruel jokes and sneering at those whom the other Slytherins deemed unworthy. With his parents, though, Fenn didn’t have to pretend to be a prejudiced and self-centered jerk; he could be himself, and was loved for who he was rather than who he pretended to be.
“So, what did you all think of the exams?”
Fenn snapped back to the present at the sound of Albert’s voice. The stocky, heavy-set boy was easily the least intelligent in the group, and was perpetually worried that he would not achieve the grades to remain at Hogwarts. It was not very often that the taciturn Slytherin joined in on his friends’ conversations--usually he just listened and gawuffed stupidly. Fenrir was pleasantly surprised.
“I’ll eat my wand if I didn’t ace the lot,” said Fenn cockily, tossing his head back so that his long hair fell more naturally over his shoulders. A girl in a nearby carriage turned to gaze at him with starry-eyed awe, causing Fenn to smirk ever-so-slightly. “The Defense Against the Dark Arts practical was really something, wasn’t it?”
The boys’ carriage jolted suddenly into motion, causing Albert to jab himself in the eye with his loosely-gripped wand. Byron and Augustus roared with laughter, but Fenn just frowned. Sometimes, his friend’s cruel behavior still got to him...
However, fully aware that Albert would be laughing at him if he had done something stupid, Fenn forced a sneer and even a chuckle before averting his gaze to the glorious view of the Hogwarts castle. With a sudden jolt of sadness, Fenn realized that it would be a long time before he saw it again.
It was not long before the carriages reached Hogsmeade station. It was the usual scene of chaos; students were leaving their carriages, shoving aside others--and nearly trampling some--in their haste to board the train. Owls were hooting, toads were croaking, and people were shouting back and forth to friends as they were pushed apart in the commotion.
With a flick of his wand, Fenn levitated his trunk out of the carriage then turned to his friends. “You guys take my trunk and get us a compartment, okay? I’ve got to go find Arianna.”
It was a beautiful day, the epitome of an early summer’s afternoon. The sun shone brightly through the cloudless blue sky, a fiery eye watching the students every moves. Squinting slightly in the light, Fenn could not help but muse upon how perfect this day was.
It took Fenrir several minutes of careful searching before spotting a flash of auburn hair leaving a nearby carriage. Feeling a surge of warmth completely unrelated to the weather, Fenn called his girlfriend’s name. “Arianna!”
The girl turned at the sound of her name, face brightening at the sight of Fenn. A Ravenclaw fourth year, Arianna Hornbeck was a pretty, petite girl with a sweetly innocent face and wide blue eyes. Standing on tiptoe, she hugged Fenn warmly and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
“How are you, Fenn?” Arianna asked quietly, eyes shining. “I’m going to miss you a lot this summer.”
Fenn grinned. “I’ll miss you too, Ari. Don’t worry, I’ll write you every week, promise.” Seeing the amused look on her face, Fenn chuckled and quickly corrected himself. “When I remember, that is.”
Rolling her eyes, Arianna took Fenn’s hand. The handsome Slytherin happily grabbed her trunk with the other and began pulling his girlfriend toward the Hogwarts Express.
The two parted with a hug when they found the compartment in which Arianna’s friends resided.
“Are you sure you don’t want to ride with us?” implored Ari, making the big puppy dog eyes that Fenn found so irresistible. “My friends won’t mind.”
Fenn sighed regretfully. “I know, Arianna, but mine will. They’re expecting me, and besides, they have my trunk.” Laughing slightly as Ari pouted, Fenn quickly tried to redeem himself. “I’ll come by with food when the trolley arrives though. I’ll walk you out on to the platform, too.”
It did not take Fenn long to locate the compartment is friends were in. Byron, Augustus, and Albert were sitting with two Slytherin girls in their year. Also, a dark-haired seventh year Fenn had never spoken to was sitting in a corner as far away as possible from the rest, her nose buried in a heavy textbook.
“So, the famous Romeo has finally deigned to join the mortals,” teased Byron, throwing Fenn a few chocolate frogs. “What brings you to this lowly Slytherin compartment?”
Fenrir rolled his eyes. “Romeo was every bit as mortal as the rest of us, which you should know. Well, only if you paid attention in Muggle Studies.”
Byron looked mildly offended. A proud pureblood, the tall boy had aristocratic features and dark hair that framed his narrow face quite handsomely. However, his sneer was one of pure distaste as he answered.
“Muggle Studies? Bah, who needs to learn about how those stupid Muggles spend their time. I only took the class because it’s an easy OWL, and it’s not as if I enjoy it.”
Fenn felt slightly uncomfortable in the direction the conversation was going. It was well known in their little group that Fenn quite enjoyed Muggle Studies, a fact that his friends openly despised. Casting around desperately for a different subject, Fenn blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “What’ve you all got planned this summer?”
The small group immediately began swapping information. Byron was going to France, and Augustus to Italy. Finally, Fenn’s turn came.
“I’m going with my parents to a little wizard village by the forests up north. It’s supposed to be quite nice. It’s for my mum’s birthday; she’s been dying to go there for ages. Layona--have you heard of it?”
Just as his friends were all shaking their heads, the sallow-faced witch in the corner looked up unexpectedly. “Layona?” she demanded in a surprisingly husky voice, looking both alarmed and curious. When Fenn nodded, nonplussed, her face darkened.
“There are a lot of rumors about that town... werewolves, they say.” Without elaborating, the girl quietly returned to her book.
“Oh, don’t listen to Prince,” said a high, fluttery voice. Fenn turned wearily to face one of the fourth year witches, a squat and toad like girl with dark curls and a square, overly made-up face. Fenn stiffened. Oh, it’s her, he thought distastefully, face darkening with a scowl.
"Dear Daddy is the head of the Department of Control of Magical Creatures, and he’s been working for ages to round up all the filthy half-breeds in England--those awful werewolves, especially. He says they’ve managed to tag almost all the werewolves in Britain.” She puffed out her chest proudly. “Now, the Ministry can keep track where every single werewolf goes, so no one has to worry anymore. Though,” she mused, “Father wanted to euthanize all of them, but the Ministry wouldn’t allow it. One day...” She laughed breathily and gave an affected little sigh. Fenn shuddered, disgusted--more at the girl than at her words.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” The surly seventh year called Prince had joined the conversation yet again. Her cold black eyes were intense as she stared penetratingly at the squat fourth year.
“Except for on the full moon, werewolves are just as human and magical as the rest of us. I’m sure it would be no problem for them to disable or remove whatever tracking device your ‘dear’ daddy put on. He would be the famous Omar Umbridge, correct?” she added.
Dolores Umbridge smirked proudly, obviously missing the heavy sarcasm in Prince’s voice. The others did not, and sniggered heartily.
But Fenrir, who did not find the morbid subject nearly as interesting as the others did, had already drifted off to sleep.
He dreamt of radio-collared wizards and robed wolves, laughing and howling to the crescent moon as they closed in around him.