Work Text:
Everyone Loves Bunny Slippers
Herpatus Rhodius came by his nickname Herpo the Foul the old fashioned way…he earned it. It was not a conscious thing. It would suffice to say he did not actively court being an antisocial or evil pariah. He had not volunteer for the role. It was just part of his inherent internal wiring. He could not help it.
But, as it was, He did build a reputation as an evil, foul individual with a monstrous temper earning him the nickname 'the Foul'. However, you never wanted to address him directly that way. That was tantamount to a wish for something wicked evil your way come from the end of his wand.
Many years ago, in an effort to solve his problems for both himself and those around him, he removed himself from the frustrations of social interaction by moving away from his town and into the deep woods. He hoped it would bring an end to being bothered while working on his spells and his violent responses to being bothered. He just wanted to be left in peace.
An intense introvert, he quickly embraced the life of a hermit hidden away from the outside world. He spent all of his time alone working on his new spells, projects. To his mind, he was in his happy place.
As knowledge of his location became better known, muggles, as well as other wizards and witches, learned how to steer clear of him. None of them wanted to end up on the wrong end of his temper and notorious curses. It was easier all around to just leave him to his own devices and go on with their lives.
During his years of seclusion, Herpo created the first Horcrux as noted in the middle ages reference book 'Magick Moste Evile' by Godelot. Of less notoriety, he also is recognized as having developed the process leading to creating the first basilisk. One might contend that the Harry Potter series might not exist, or that it would be very different without the efforts of Herpo.
Time allowed him to become a sleeping dragon of a sort, not to be tickled or poked. He was a thing forgotten that should have stayed forgotten. But, as many a story illustrates, man cannot let well enough be left that way.
One day, two muggles from his former village happened upon his cottage while hunting rabbits. It was the first intrusion on his solitude in many a day. Hearing them, Herpo stepped outside to confront the intruders.
"What are you doing in my woods?" demanded Herpo in an anything but friendly voice.
"We're hunting wabbits," snapped the taller one.
"Ya, it's rabbit season and these are not your wood," sputtered the one with black hair and a duck-billish nose as he pointed to the fresh brace of rabbits on their belts.
"Well. Be off with you before I lose my temper," growled Herpo. "And leave those rabbits as payment for your trespassing."
"Be quiet, old man," said the one with black hair, puffing up his chest. "And go back inside and tend to your own business."
"Yes. Be vewy, vewy qwiet and leave us to our hunting."
Herpo had reached his limit, which was a notoriously short trip. He pulled out his wand and flicked it three times as he said, "You like rabbits. Then join them. LEPUS MUTATIO!"
The two muggles were instantly changed into small, brown rabbits. Herpo put away his wand and picked up their game. With a scowl, he turned to go back inside his cottage and continue the work they had interrupted.
Unfortunately, the two muggles had not yet learned the errs of their ways and began chasing after him. They nipped at his ankles and bare feet as he tried to kick them away. Finally, he had enough.
He pulled out his wand and said. "SOCCUS VILIOR!" as he waved it.
The two rabbits were transfigured in a flash of brown light into a pair of rabbit slippers.
He slid his bare feet into them and actually smiled at the warm, furry comfort. "If you want to follow me, then at least you can be useful."