ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Seventeen. R.W.W.

The last week of term had arrived leaving everyone anxious to turn in their final assignments and finally get a break. The whole of Ravenclaw house, it seemed, had gathered in the common room, sluggishly forcing their way through the last of their homework and trying hard not to think how close they were to freedom.

Sean and Evelyn sat on a plushy sofa covered in a blue, brocade fabric with Marlowe sat across from them in a large armchair. It had been over two weeks since Sean and Evelyn had kissed, and still, neither of them had acknowledged it, excepting the fact that Evelyn finally seemed to have forgiven Sean completely for his amortentia-induced indiscretion and had resumed her usual habit of using Sean as a pillow as often as possible. 

Tonight, she was pressed into his side with her homework spread across both their laps. Sean was trying to balance his textbook, class notes, parchment, quill, and ink, all on the arm of the sofa. Still, he kept his left arm around her, though he probably could have used an extra hand for his balancing act. He kept almost losing his notes as he rifled through them one-handedly.

Marlowe kept giving them disgusted looks from the armchair chair opposite them. Evelyn knew he minded their touchiness much less when Caiti was around. But tonight, she was gone at some meeting she had been very eager to go to, but strangely reluctant to go into detail. She had practically skipped out of the common room.

Evelyn dragged her finger across the text of what she was reading. The last thing she had to finish up before break was an excruciating essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts on the "history of rights for magical creatures of high intelligence from a defensive standpoint," whatever that meant. She was struggling to pay attention. DADA had never been her favorite subject, but she'd kept it into her N.E.W.T. years, because she felt it was probably important to know.

She turned the page, reduced now to skimming, rather than reading. Until she came across something that made her sit up.

"Sean," she said suddenly.

His arm slid off her shoulders when she moved. "Huh?"

"What was that thing you asked me about. Those initials?"

"What?" he asked, frowning.

"Mr. Fenwick, remember? The tournament. You asked me about those initials, what were they?"

Sean frowned. "R.W.W. wasn't it?" It had been awhile since he'd thought about it.

Evelyn's eyes widened. "Oh my god," she whispered.

"What?" asked Sean. He sat up too now, interest piqued. Half the contents of the arm of the couch fell off as he shifted. Thankfully, the ink bottle, which he had left open, remained stationary.

"Only, I've found out what it means," said Evelyn. And she pointed to the middle of the page so Sean could read.

Among the greatest leaps in the last decade towards a more accepting and whole wizarding society are the Wolfsbane Laws, so named for the potion which is among the most spectacular achievements of a branch of magic which is often overshadowed by flashy wandwork. In brief, these laws made it possible for victims of lycanthropy to come out of hiding and lead normal lives among the wizards they once felt they belonged among. 

While prejudice still exists, the laws have, as a whole, made the workplace a much more approachable place for the able werewolf. For the safety of those working closely with these wizards, it is required of all werewolves entering the public space that a badge is worn with the initials R.W.W. (Registered Werewolf), so that the condition, while no longer considered a setback or ultimatum, is not kept a secret.