For some the inclination to jump to defenses and plead their case beat out the common courtesy to listen to anothers point of view before speaking. For Kenneth this urge was beginning to grow as his patience for Fenrir Greybacks blatant bigotry increased with every passing word that surged out of the werewolfs mouth. Still, generations of breeding and years of formality served to temper his underlying irritation as he once again served as the audience to this biased rant. Humanity wasnt a weakness, not in the way that the misguided man beast seemed to think. No, humanity was natural and those that tampered with the limits of it were monsters with no sense of wrong or right, with no true compassion for the impacts their actions had on the existences of other people. Like the rising Death Eaters and the terror they brought to this edgy community of magical folk simply because they didnt deem muggles and muggleborns worthy of living. Hed worked with and encountered several creatures politically defined as monsters, and very few of them actually lived up to their title when compared to the likes of them.

Even werewolves had a saving grace, the fact that they didnt have the state of mind to control their actions during their monthly transformation, but even then there were those like Greyback that saw his curse as a gift and intended to spread it onto others. Those like him were vicious beings with a distorted sense of duty and power, and Kenneth truly believed the limits of his compassion would never aim in Fenrirs direction however, it was difficult to prepare for things that assumptions left hidden. The ranting changed from angry indignation to subtle fear as the scruffy mans tale unraveled before his eyes, the memories of a less pleasant moment taking hold of him completely. Retellings of a personal memory so traumatic left the curly-haired wizard with nothing more to do than simply sit still and absorb the information as sympathy bloomed beneath his exterior.

What would it be like to lose yourself to something you couldnt control every time the full moon rose? To feel your bones stretch and distort and your flesh rearrange and you became a beast thats instinct was to bite and spread the disease it carried? Kenneth barely contained a grimace as Fenrirs story continued, the accounts of not only the pain and confusion of the first transformation, but the ridicule and prejudices sent their way even in human form.

See how the beast fears you? That is because Vitur Arason is no longer there. What you are seeing is a confused monster, that would tear out your throat if it caught you alone. It doesnt think, no shred of humanity left.

It was an accurate enough description of what his own internal musings would reflect should he have been put in that position, or so he was certain as he listened to the disgruntled man. Despite the fact that he didnt take the words for anything more than a distorted view of his life since Greyback received his bite, Kenneth couldnt stop the pity from swelling within him as the half-frightened recollection haunted his mind. The allusions of the reversal hex were directed specifically at him, he knew, and although the spell was not a pleasant one, the Head of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures Department couldnt bring himself to be ashamed for his actions. Fenrir saw everything with tunnel vision because of his past experiences, where the pureblood wizard had the objectivity of someone without such a burden. Hed protected a family from suffering a werewolfs fate the one and only time hed ever used that extreme measure, and hed be damned if hed apologize for the use.

No shred of humanity left Kenneth shook his head to clear his mind of that one eerie statement, the one true part of Fenrirs tale that tugged at his heartstrings without defense. Was that why the other man chose to resent humanity? because hed been viewed as a creature without it for so long? Wanting to clear his thoughts of the matter, Kenneth stood, keeping his wand trained on his snarling companion before tossing down a few coins for their drinks and sparing the werewolf one last look. His punishment was not undeserved, he responded coolly before taking a few steps to a space free of apparition wards, Good night, Greyback. And with that he disappeared with a pronounced pop, though his mind was far from the dirty Hogsmeade pub when he returned to his solitary manor in the Scottish highlands.