Observation, reading people and other beings, knowing their intentions with the help unspoken signals and deduction born of previous experience; these were all skills that had been essential in the field and at that moment Kenneth fully appreciated the down and dirty aspect of his youthful career. He didnt miss the nearly imperceptible glance at his wand, nor did the spark of fury deep within the unnaturally golden eyes of his opponent escape his notice. It was a look hed seen before from many of his kind, the ones that were unfortunate enough to be taken into the werewolf lifestyle before they could be trained in the magical arts. A subtle loathing crept into the purebloods demeanor as he thought of those like Fenrir Greyback, the ones who embraced their damnation as a gift instead of the curse becoming a werewolf was. The ones that sought to spread the infection to others.

Fenrirs disjointed rant about the werewolf hunting grounds evoked no response from the curly-haired wizard, the point of the reserves having completely gone over Greybacks head. The Ministry hadnt created them for the purpose of werewolves finding a meal during their three night transformation period, but simply for the sake of keeping them where they wouldnt be a danger to the innocent citizens of the wizard community or oblivious muggles. Explaining this to the bull-headed beast would be a pointless endeavor, however, so the department head selectively ignored that part of his companions tirade.

Have you lived withoucher wand, Macmillian? Ever?

Greybacks blatant jealousies and prejudices yielded little more than disgust from the thirty-two year old man as he patiently listened to a face that threatened danger in every snarled word. Kenneth idly wondered if Fenrir was deliberately misinterpreting his words for the sake of finding an argument he could win, but wisely kept this musing to himself. Still, going from discussing the murder and cursing of humans to the hunting and use of animals as food and clothing was another misconstrued statement, and the brown-eyed man found himself growing exasperated with the twisting of his reasonably stated words. The fact that the werewolf called him by name didnt even make him blink, nor did he make any move to deny the assumption. Theyd gone beyond that trivial guessing game into something more personal than an exchange of names.

Choosing not to comment on Fenrirs lack of decent robes or the fact that he didnt see anything remotely resembling human skin or a human scalp in the crudely made garment, the dark-haired man zeroed in on a much more interesting debate. I havent, Kenneth said evenly and without a hint of the sheepish admission his opponent was undoubtedly hoping for, yet you condemn me and all other witches and wizards for utilizing an ability that we were born with, one that is within our nature. We were born with magic in our blood and so it is a part of our existence. You sneer at wands for giving us the ability to focus our innate powers, but it serves the same function to us as the moon does for your kind. It reveals our true natures and gives us control of those powers that would otherwise lie dormant.