"I've got you." (faithlessdragon - pick a verse, any verse!)
They said the wolves were dangerous.
Seamus Finnigan grew up hearing the stories about the Wolves that took over the Ministry of Magic. The magical Irish Community severed ties as fast as they could, and so had others--not that it mattered since all the spaces infected turned inward and silent for almost a decade as they sorted out politics and policy.
So instead of going to Hogwarts, he had been taught at home and instead of seeing Diagon Alley, he saw a smaller street in Dublin. Everything else was said in whispers, everything else were rumors.
Who could blame him when the toffs from England and Scotland finally decided to come back to the Derby. His mother fretted, the Innkeeper was worried: how much meat would they want? Would anyone have to touch them? How would anyone know...this person was wolf?
But it made the derby bigger then Seamus had ever seen: a veritable stream of strangers and the McKinnons throwing money into every display, every celebration because Their daughter was finally coming home.
So who could blame Seamus, at seventeen, from being excited. Was it so inexcusable that he peered from the barn down at them in their old style robes and the ways they were so proper one minute and so other the next?
Of course, perhaps spying on the outskirts of one of the pack parties was a little gauche--but no one was more surprised then he was when his drunk cousin decided to take a stab at a werewolf and got family instead.
