lost cause | sarah

[rhys alexander greyback]

and if i die young

i was born
with a target on my head

September 2017
sarah jane oliveira

Some habits were hard to break, and especially for Rhys. Some habits had been for survival in a sense. But this time was different. It was his seventh year, and barring any seventh years that didn’t particularly like him—he was the top of the food chain. He didn’t have to worry about Idris being just around the corner when he was on his way to Arithmancy or any of others that found their favorite target the second ‘Greyback’ had been called for the Sorting Hat. Which brought up something interesting. Those bullies were long and gone now, and he had a sibling. All these years—he never would have imagined it. He’d relied on his close friends to fill that void.

Rhys took a seat in the Great Hall. Since it was breakfast, there was hardly ten percent of the typical student population that would fill the place during lunch and dinner. But, he preferred it that way. Rhys was never a morning person, but he had an early Magical Theory class, and the quiet was nice. Still, he’d hoped more of his friends would be awake—he very well couldn’t go into the Hufflepuff Common Room to bug Renfri or Ilija there, and he hadn’t seen Nell or Sarah in the Slytherin Common Room. Then again, Rhys was still actively avoiding the Hufflepuff Common Room just in case he ran into Deva. There hadn’t been a single moment he hadn’t thought about her over the summer, and he ran around his mind a thousand times justifying what he did because he did the right thing—right? It had to be? There was no sense in breaking her heart otherwise. He grabbed a plate and some eggs with a sigh and began to eat his toast while he skimmed the first few pages of his textbook.

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[sarah jane oliveira]

September 2017

In under a year, she would be free of Hogwarts, but who was counting? Sarah wasn't looking forward to her NEWT examinations in the slightest, but she also wasn't concerned about receiving top marks. As long as she passed and got her freedom, that was what mattered to her in the end. Everything else, she would figure that out along the way and hopefully find herself a job where it didn't matter that she was a werewolf.

Listening to people in the common room—or really anywhere else in the castle—drone on about what it was they were going to do after Hogwarts had already gotten a little old for Sarah's liking, and it was only September. That would probably drive her mad, she thought, before anything else, but she only had so many more days of having to go through the usual school routine. Each time she set foot in the Great Hall, she reminded herself, was one step closer to not having to see it ever again.

That it was only breakfast and that she had to come back for each of lunch and dinner that day alone also bothered her, but Sarah knew that she could survive it. She sat down at the Slytherin table, as was expected of her, but was operating almost mechanically. Rhys Greyback was so busy looking at his textbook that he probably hadn't seen her, though his toast was dangerously close to getting all over his reading material.

"I hope that's not a library book," Sarah teased him as she began to put food on her plate and caught sight of what he was doing. (Even if it were a library book, she knew that he could clean it up with magic, but getting breadcrumbs wedged up between the pages was still a little repulsive.)

rhys alexander greyback

[rhys alexander greyback]

and if i die young

i was born
with a target on my head

September 2017
sarah jane oliveira

Rhys had never really said it out loud, but in his mind, his goal was to work in some career like Law Enforcement. His heart was set on proving a point, proving everybody wrong. While his time at Hogwarts had been better than he could have ever imagined, it had still been an uphill climb. So far, his final year felt a lot more tolerable in that sense, and his goal was just on the horizon. Fortunately, Rhys wasn’t the only werewolf at the school, and now he wasn’t the only Greyback. So much had changed in so little time.

A voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked up. Sarah sat down and commented on his book, and after blinking at her for a moment, he looked down and noticed how close his book was to his food. Rhys hadn’t even noticed, to be honest. Deva would have just pulled the plate away. Habits. Rhys stuffed the half piece of toast in his mouth and closed the book, putting it back in his bag. ”Hey Sarah.” He mumbled, mouth full of bread. Once, he had chewed. ”It was, but it's fine.” Most of his books were usually from the library, at least if he wasn’t required to buy them for his courses.

Drinking some orange juice, he pushed his plate away. The full moon was early this month and right during the first week of school. Even though he’d been taking it since he was five, the thought of wolfsbane always made his stomach turn a little. ”Can you believe we already have Charms homework?” Seventh year would be the busiest.

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[sarah jane oliveira]

September 2017

Rhys greeted her distractedly, his mouth full as he spoke and put the book away and said that the book had come from the library. He was lucky that she wasn't someone who cared much about decorum like that, or she probably would have had something to say. The librarian probably would anyway, she thought. Crumbs inside a library book weren't a good look. As much as Sarah ended up in detention herself, she knew that it wouldn't endear Rhys to anybody. At least it would be relatively easy to clean up the remnants of his breakfast, and at least that wasn't her job.

"Can you believe we already have Charms homework?" Rhys asked her, catching her mid-bite.

Sarah, still chewing, bobbed her head, rolling her eyes slightly because she couldn't give him a verbal response immediately. "Eugh, I know. Acting like we're all going to be metal charmers or something," she then replied. It was a shame that Charms was useful, unlike some other subjects she theoretically could have been taking. Obviously, they were both good enough at Charms to have made it to NEWT level, but that didn't change that having homework so soon was a pain.

rhys alexander greyback

[rhys alexander greyback]

and if i die young

i was born
with a target on my head

September 2017
sarah jane oliveira

Sarah didn’t say much more on the book, but it was Sarah after all. It wasn’t Renfri telling him to be more careful or making a book good as new after Rhys would spill orange juice on it. Really, it was astonishing how distracted he could sometimes be. And this year, he didn’t have the same distractions as usual. No Deva next to him and no Idris taunting him either. He could sit and read his book in peace, and it was a strange feeling still. More students walked in, and instinctively, Rhys glanced up and saw the yellow accented robes of Hufflepuff students.

Immediately his heart did what felt like a backflip as his gaze lingered, but then he looked down suddenly as he focused on his toast. There was a light shade of pink in his cheeks, but he didn’t say anything. It was odd seeing her after all summer, and she was laughing with her friends. For now, he looked back at Sarah as she answered. Rhys shrugged. ”Charms are useful, though.” In everyday life and things like law enforcement, but he kept that to himself. ”What are you planning for after anyway?” It wasn’t always something that came up in conversation, and it wasn’t an obvious career like Nell with her wand tinkering. Plus, being werewolves still might limit their options.

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[sarah jane oliveira]

September 2017

"Charms are useful, though."

Sarah frowned. Rhys had a point. Charms were useful, but they didn't get to focus on most of the ones that were actually useful. The Knitting Charm, one of the ones that they had covered the previous year, was useful only if you actually cared about… knitting. (Maybe in fifty years or so?) They could always turn vinegar to wine, supposed Sarah, but she'd had the misfortune of turning hers to ice more times than she should have. Besides, they couldn't exactly drink the wine in class, even if they had made it for an academic purpose.

Rhys asked her what she had planned for "after", and Sarah knew that he meant Hogwarts and not breakfast. She knew the latter, however, and not the former.

"I don't know. Something that makes money?" Sarah considered, though the jobs that made money didn't really line up with the fact that she was a werewolf. "I can't see myself doing anything at the Ministry, though," she elaborated, not that that was a shock. At least the detentions she'd earned herself at Hogwarts wouldn't carry over into the working world. "Why? D'you think there's something I'd be good at?"

rhys alexander greyback

[rhys alexander greyback]

and if i die young

i was born
with a target on my head

September 2017
sarah jane oliveira

Sarah didn’t seem all keen on discussing the usefulness of their academics. But it wasn’t something they talked about much over the past seven years. In fact, he wondered if they would have even been friends if not for a werewolf’s tendency to find a sort of pack—even if by loose association. Lone wolves with allies might have been a better description. At least, that was how Rhys saw himself—a lone wolf in a world that just kept pushing him down. Having allies made him feel a little less alone. Plus, Sarah was always far more outspoken than he was when someone decided it was time to disrupt their day with some jab at their lycanthropy or his name.

Her answer was reasonable…and honest. Rhys had heard that society used to be much harder on werewolves, and he’d raised an eyebrow considering how difficult it felt now. ”Well, you’re such a people person.” Rhys looked up from his book. ”Could just get some desk job at the Ministry.” He added with a shrug. The only job Rhys really wanted at the Ministry was in Law Enforcement. He would have the NEWTs, and he’d grown significantly taller over the past two years, though he was still a bit on the scrawny side. As he flipped a page, he glanced up again, and he felt his heart stop in his chest briefly. Deva walked with her friends to the Hufflepuff table, and Rhys shifted in his seat to turn slightly away from the entrance. It was easier over the summer when she wasn’t in the same building as him. Clearing his throat, he spoke again. ”Doesn’t your dad work at the Ministry?”

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[sarah jane oliveira]

September 2017

"Well, you're such a people person," Rhys remarked. Sarah couldn't even take offense to that, because he had a point. She would absolutely lose her patience with customers if she had to work in some environment where she had to be told that, no, the customer was always right. His suggestion that she go for a desk job at the Ministry didn't sound like the worst thing in the world, then. It wouldn't be fantastic, but she wasn't into the idea of working in a job she loved and supposedly never actually feeling like it was work.

She made a bit of a face, considering what Rhys had to say. He also pointed out that her father worked at the Ministry, which was even more of a reason not to. Sarah didn't want to have to work with her dad! Then again, that was what all of the blood purists who stuck up their noses at people like them did. Could she beat them at their own game?

"Ooooh, nepotism. Brilliant work," Sarah teased Rhys after she poured herself some pumpkin juice and took a swig of it. From that perspective, it wasn't terrible. She could theoretically work her way up to where she could influence policy enough to keep the current politicians from being as heavy-handed about werewolf rights. She'd never had a particular passion for advocacy, per se, but she could argue, and wasn't that half of it?

rhys alexander greyback

[rhys alexander greyback]

and if i die young

i was born
with a target on my head

September 2017
sarah jane oliveira

A werewolf was less of a social outcast these days than before, so Rhys was told. Unfortunately, Rhys could not escape his name. It might as well be charmed to be displayed on his forehead in some fanciful script. Since his mother was killed and he was turned at the age of five, Rhys realized quickly when people were staring at him or talking about him. Sometimes their whispers barely qualified as such. But in his mother’s small village, he had felt it as well, and his mother did her best to distract him from it. And then he’d arrived at Hogwarts, where he quickly (and surprisingly) made a friend. Other students didn’t care who he was, or maybe they didn’t know.

And then that first full moon arrived, and he reported as he was told to the Hospital Wing, and he discovered a surprise—other werewolves. Sarah was among them, the same pointed stare in her light eyes that she still wore. Rhys remembered how she stood there impatiently with her arms crossed next to her older brother, a happier sort and a year older. Since then, he’d gravitated toward them, though Sarah was in the same year and house. And now, seven years later, the two werewolves were trying to figure out what to do with themselves after they graduated. Unless either of them ended up with too many detentions as they usually did.

Sarah didn’t contradict his comment about her people skills. It wasn’t anything she could deny. Even Rhys, with his famously short temper, faired better at times. Rhys closed his book, though a little louder than he intended. What he would give for an inside connection to the Ministry—but as he clenched his jaw and released, he instead paused to take another bite into his cold toast. It was chewy now. But he spoke after forcing it down. ”Its something.” And her parents were werewolves, so that had to count for something. ”People aren’t exactly lining up to hire us, let alone me.” He added a little bitterly. He glanced at the Hufflepuff table where Deva was laughing. Clearly, she had moved on, just like everybody else did. Her father worked in Law Enforcement which was a massive obstacle in his intended course.

He didn’t want to think about that, plus he just trumped his mood to the full moon in a couple of days. ”What did your brother end up doing anyway?” Rhys hadn’t interacted with her older brother a lot, except for the monthly full moon and a handful of other times. But he’d never had an issue with Rhys like some of the others in his year.

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[sarah jane oliveira]

September 2017

Rhys pointed out that people weren't lining up to hire werewolves, let alone him—because of his surname, no doubt. Someone probably would want to hire him because of that, Sarah thought, except it'd be in some seedy business off the beaten path in Knockturn Alley. There were ways around that, though. He could always change his name to whatever his mother's surname was and never have to worry about being viewed as some mangy mongrel who belonged on the streets. And there was also the better option, perhaps: Developing skills that outweighed any potential werewolf discrimination.

That was what Dakoda had done, though Sarah didn't think that his path would be an option for her. Rhys, maybe; he was the sort of student who did well enough if he put his mind to it, hence the textbook at breakfast.

"Healer training," Sarah replied to Rhys as she spit out a gristly piece of sausage into her napkin. "Obviously, that requires marks I won't get." It didn't matter that Sarah felt that she was cleverer than her brother; he had the academic success on top of the brains. She had better things to do than listen to whatever drivel they supposedly needed to know for life outside of Hogwarts. On top of that, she really didn't know how Dakoda was going to be treated at St. Mungo's as a Healer rather than a patient. Some people probably wouldn't want him to treat them just because he was a werewolf, even though he wouldn't be anywhere near the hospital's wards at the full moon.

"That leaves… What?" she muttered. Very few jobs had such defined pathways, and they were all incredibly competitive—the kinds of jobs that even people with an "Outstanding" at NEWT level in every subject they took had to beg on their knees, or at least that was how it felt. "…Auror training, Curse-Breaking, or failure?"

rhys alexander greyback

[rhys alexander greyback]

and if i die young

i was born
with a target on my head

September 2017
sarah jane oliveira

Rhys had never wanted to be Prefect or Head Boy or Quidditch Captain, but seeing his classmates receive those shiny badges they wore with pride on their cloaks still hurt him. He knew he had the academic marks and he had the focus, but his disciplinary record didn’t help him. Rhys’ name didn’t help him, however. People still heard ‘Greyback’, and their head was filled with whatever awful bedtime stories their parents told them or whatever details were shared of those days when Harry Potter sat in this Great Hall. One was never completely immune from the looks and whispers or the comments the older boys would say to push his buttons.

He raised a curious eyebrow, though. A werewolf in the healing profession wasn’t unheard of, but it wasn’t incredibly common either. ”I think I’ve seen enough of the inside of St. Mungo’s.” Rhys frowned slightly. If it wasn’t some werewolf-related injury, it was injuries from a fight. At least while he was at Hogwarts, he was provided Wolfsbane, though, during the summertime, he was sent to the aptly nicknamed “Werewolf hotel” to not endanger the other kids at the orphanage. The marks required for such a career were about as high as the Auror track, though leaning heavily in potions and charms. Potions were not one of Rhys’ favorite subjects, and he barely managed to get by at the NEWT level.

”And I’d rather not deal with Potions more than I need to….or people.” On that note, they were on the same page. Rhys wasn’t incredibly social, preferring to keep to himself if none of his friends were around. He felt far more comfortable with them though he remembered the summer before his second year almost convincing himself they didn’t want to be his friend. But then he’d gotten on the train, and Nell saw him first, greeting him happily, followed by Ilija and Renfri. And then he’d seen Dakoda and Sarah, and they all got on the train. Rhys pushed his plate away. He wasn’t hungry anymore, nor was his food warm. He’d settle for the remnants of the juice in his cup for now.

Cursebreaking didn’t sound bad, he had the marks, but the dream of making his name as an Auror was still there. Not even his self-doubt had talked him out of that one, though again, he thought of his ex and her familial connections. ”I suppose I could apply for Auror Training, maybe Hit-Wizard.” Rhys thought out loud. His reaction time was remarkable, but six years of constant bullying would do that. ”We would become Cursebreakers and have all the gold we’ll ever need.” Wouldn’t that be nice. Rhys was an orphan, but Sarah came from a large family, so neither would mind the extra gold. Finishing his juice, he put his book back in his bag. ”Just doesn’t seem fair, does it?” There was a frustration that always sat in the pit of his stomach, and he’d mentioned it to Sarah before. The boys who were years ahead of him and would bully him as a second-year were now rich and famous Quidditch stars. How was it fair they got everything they wanted?

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[sarah jane oliveira]

September 2017

Healing, Rhys voiced, was out of the question for him because he didn't really want to spend any more time at St. Mungo's than he already had. Dealing with more Potions work didn't appeal to him, and neither did being around people constantly. Both Auror training and Curse-Breaking, though? Those caught his attention. Curse-Breaking would give them all the gold they could ever need, he reasoned, and Sarah understood why that would appeal to him more than to herself. Her parents weren't wealthy, but she at least had parents. Rhys didn't.

"Just doesn’t seem fair, does it?" Rhys lamented.

It was why they had to prove themselves. Anything that a non-werewolf could do, so could they—and probably ten times better because of everything they had been through. "It isn't fair. But someday," Sarah smiled, looking over at the Great Hall before continuing, "we'll prove all of them wrong about us." And all of the rest would realize just how much they had underestimated the werewolves around them.

rhys alexander greyback

[rhys alexander greyback]

and if i die young

i was born
with a target on my head

September 2017
sarah jane oliveira

Sarah responded quickly, and Rhys looked up at her, his eyes still carrying that gloomy shade of blue. On the other hand, she smiled and referred to their peers in the Great Hall. Only a handful of them were werewolves. And the werewolves all knew one another from their required monthly meeting to take their Wolfsbane potion. Though not all students who knew who the werewolves necessarily were. Rhys didn’t respond right away, his eyes scanning the Great Hall. Nobody minded them, focusing on waking up or their breakfast in front of them. Some of the older students hastily scrawled on lengths of parchment as they finished their assignments for OWL-level courses.

But maybe she was right, even if Rhys didn’t feel it at that moment. ”Maybe.” If this conversation had taken place a year ago, Rhys would have ignored Sarah’s optimism and found solace in the little rain cloud that never seemed to leave his life. But things were different now. Rhys thought of the half-sibling he’d met just a few days ago, but they were not a werewolf. ”We should probably start by not ending up with so much detention this year.” Rhys suggested. Hopefully, now that most of his bullies had graduated, that would help on Rhys’ end. For Sarah? Well, it was still up the in air. Rhys had a hard time telling his friend to stay calm when certain classmates and their comments pushed his buttons as well.

Which reminded him that one of the more fervent perpetrators was also in his Magical Theory class and their Charms class. And despite what he’d just said about avoiding detention, Rhys was not in the mood for another comment regarding Fenrir or werewolves. ”I don’t know how many more the ’dogs are off their leashes’ comments I can take. Might be worth detention to shut them up for a while.” Rhys was the one that always ended up in trouble due to his temper. Which didn’t help his case when he wanted to appear better than his namesake.

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[sarah jane oliveira]

September 2017

Rhys told her that they needed to start changing people's minds by not getting in detention so much that year. Sarah, who knew that that was going to be an impossible task, shook her head and laughed. She didn't think that she would be changing their teachers' minds about her in a year. They probably sought her out to polish the trophies for services to the school anymore. If they thought that she might somehow absorb that and turn into a model student, then she could probably get into WADA for that performance.

It wasn't easy to keep her temper in check when people were just so incredibly dense. After their first or second year, when even the Muggle-borns knew the general ins and outs of what being a "real" (cue the eye roll) entailed, it was ridiculous. Any comparisons to dogs were childish, yet some people did it to try their luck. "I almost hexed him for that one last class," Sarah admitted. She hadn't done it; she'd only thought about it, but it would have been worth it. A Bat-Bogey Hex under the desk wouldn't have been enough to deter anyone, though, and she knew it. A Skiving Snackbox prank, like a Puking Pastille, would only lead to a missed class for the victim, and that would be more of a reward for stupidity.

"I miss the rabies jokes from last year. At least those had some bite," Sarah noted dryly. There were some days when she wished she were rabid, just for the sake of revenge, although being able to leave a lasting mark with a scratch in human form was also reasonably effective.

rhys alexander greyback

[rhys alexander greyback]

and if i die young

i was born
with a target on my head

September 2017
sarah jane oliveira

Sarah seemed far less confident that reduced detention was possible. She was probably right on that account as well. All detention had done for them was force them to memorize the locations of classrooms that were hardly used and the various trophy rooms in the school. The silver would not polish itself—or at least not while students needed something to do. It was the only time Rhys was ever near the Quidditch Pitch so that the messy locker rooms could be organized for the next match. And one couldn’t forget the cauldrons that needed cleaning for the Potions Master.

The work could be grueling, but in a way, it had been good for the Greyback. Teaching him some discipline and giving him time to calm down, though a lecture from Renfri would only push his buttons again. Rhys raised an eyebrow. He’d seen the look on her face that previous class, how her hand flinched toward her wand. But they didn’t need to get themselves expelled. There had to be another way. ”Maybe we can hex him with fleas next time?” Rhys suggested, now putting his elbow on the table to lean his head on his fist.

At least the trouble he got into that did not involve physical violence was harmless. Almost overflowing the dungeons with bubbles was annoying at best, but nobody got hurt. Surely some hex to mimic fleas wouldn’t be that hard to figure out. Sarah brought up the rabies jokes. He’d almost forgotten about them. And he was about to comment on their classmate’s rather wolfish eyebrows when someone bumped into him as he stood up straight. Immediately turning, his face was severe, and his icy blue eyes landed on the figure of a small, scrawny boy with light blonde hair and gray eyes that had grown huge after Rhys had turned. ’S-s-sorry.’ And the first year almost fell backward trying to walk to the farthest end of the Slytherin table.

Rhys didn’t say anything. It was just a first-year who wasn’t watching where he was going, but it wasn’t a new experience. Slytherin house was filled with descendants of Death Eaters and former colleagues of his father—which meant they knew the stories. Rhys’ eyes didn’t help. A fact he figured out from his recurring nightmare at seeing Fenrir’s face, and someone had confirmed in his first year that Fenrir Greyback indeed had a particular shade of blue eyes. ”These First Years are so…small.” Rhys commented, giving the end of the table a quick glance before deciding to forget about the incident. Had he been that small at eleven? Or was he just that tall now?

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