First Meetings
Summary:This is the story of how Mad Eye Moody met and learned to hate the ever "charming" Boewyn. Set before my other story Werewolf Hunting, and staring that story's main characters!
Disclaimer: I do not only any characters pre-owned by JK Rowling... even if I think some of them are unloved and need to removed from her care and placed in better homes... (Sirius and Remus I swear one day I'll come save you!!) I do however own the all singing, all dancing Boewyn Bennet!!!
Authors Note: -crawls out of tomb and demands brains... or even better! Chocolate-
-Meets the dead silence of readers-
Not a good excuse then?
Well I tried...
This story is just a short one set well before Werewolf Hunting. I found myself sitting in an Implement Workplace Health Safety and Security Procedures Lecture and needed something to do other than listening to Wayne dribble about some stupid assignment, so I started writing... after 3 months of it sitting in my notebook I finally decided to type what I has so far up... only to realise my notebook was at my house and I was at my parents...
So I started again from scratch... hope you enjoy.
Alastor Moody kept his eyes moving over the clearing where he and a dozen other Aurors stood. A chill wind blew across them, causes an increase in the bitter complaints which the Aurors had been voicing since they had first come out here at what was felt as a ridiculous time. Moody rolled his eyes, you would think that as Aurors they would accept the fact that sometimes it was shit work, but it seemed that most of them believed that they were above hard work. Moody however was a firm believer in working hard to achieve a goal. Being an Auror meant that hard work resulted, hopefully, in keeping the wizarding community safe from dark wizards and monsters. Just thinking about it made Moody swell with pride, that was the reason why he joined the Aurors in the first place, what he had tried so hard through his years at Hogwarts and then again at the Auror Academy. His hard work paid off as well, it was no secret that he was considered one of the best Aurors around. He knew what to do, how to do it, he could think on his feet, could handle any situation thrown his way and was constantly alert… constantly vigilant!
Of course, some people called him paranoid... but being on guard wasn't paranoia… was it?
Moody shook himself, clearing his head and went back to scanning the clearing, while running the reason why they were standing here on the wrong side of dawn. Recently there had been many werewolf attacks. Few of those who were attacked survived the attacks, and those that did became cursed with the Lycanthrope disease. These attacks had been going on for the past eight months, but the Aurors has so far been unable to stop them, there was no pattern of who was being targeted, or why… the only thing that those being targeted had in common was that they were all children. The Aurors had only managed to find out one thing about the attacks… they were all being done by a single werewolf.
Moody shook his head in disgust. Months of investigations had lead them nowhere, it was at their last briefing and conference with the Head Auror that it was decided that they needed some external help to find out more. So now here they were, 2 weeks later. Last night another child had been attacked, now they were waiting for their 'external help'.
Suddenly movement caught Moody's eye, his head snapped around, drawing his wand. He relaxed when he recognized the Head Auror come into view, though he kept his wand out as he took in his boss' companion. He was young for a start… much younger than Moody would have expected for a so-called werewolf expert. He had tawny coloured hair which fell about his shoulders and over his eyes, their colour impossible to tell in this light. As the two drew closer, stopping not far from where Moody was standing, he noted that this hunter was very short, the top of his head barely managing to come up to the head Aurors shoulder. He wore simple muggle clothes, a white long sleeved shirt under a thigh length dark brown leather cloak, dark brown trousers and calf-high boots. He was also armed. Two muggle devices Moody knew to be called 'guns' sheathed on his belt, as well as what appeared to be a dagger. Sticking out of the tops of his boots were the handles of what appeared to be a dagger and what seemed to resemble a stake. Another look over made Moody realise that the man didn't seem to carry a wand about his person at all. Much to Moody's disgust, what type of respectable wizard didn't carry a wand? With this in mind, he assumed that this man was perhaps a Squib.
"All right everyone, get here" The Head Auror ordered. Glumly the Aurors gathered around their boss and the young stranger, all of them eyeing him with mistrust and disapproval.
"This is Boewyn Bennet; he's a werewolf expert and hunter. He'll be trying to help us find out more about these attacks."
There was a faint grumble of acknowledgement from the assorted wizards.
Moody raised an eyebrow, a werewolf hunter? At his age?... he seemed to be only in his late teens to early twenty's. Perhaps only nineteen or twenty.
"Last night there was an attack at a house about half a mile down the road, that's where we will be going to investigate. It's the eighth attack in eight months. We want to try find out more about the werewolf that's doing it."
The hunter raised an eyebrow, "are you sure it's the same werewolf each time?"
"At the start we didn't" came the grim reply, "however these attacks are regular... before them we could expect an attack once every three months are so, werewolves are dangerous, but they've learnt to stay away from wizards thanks to the new werewolf execution laws. While there is no major pattern to the attacks apart from children being targeted and no way to predict who will be targeted next they are constant."
Boewyn nodded, a calculating look on his face. There was a long drawn out silence...
Which drew on... and on...
The calculating look because a distant one...
Which then changed to a vacant one...
The Aurors traded confused glances...
The Head Auror cleared his throat and after getting no response tapped the hunter on the shoulder... "Mr. Bennet?"
Boewyn jumped, and looked around wildly, a slightly confused look on his face.
"Huh? Wha? ... Errr... what were we saying?"
There was a disbelieving silence.
"The Werewolf attack..." The head Auror stated slowly.
"Oh! Right! Sorry, lost track for a while there..." Boewyn shook his head "Hate Werewolves..." he muttered, a dark brooding look on his face, after a moment his face brightened again, "Lead the way, Sir!"
The Head Auror stared for a moment, before shaking his head to clear it and gesturing to everyone to follow him, "let's move."
They began walking, Moody falling into step with his boss, the hunter dropping to the back. The early morning sun was glowing over the fields, in the distance they could make out the silhouette of a house. They walked in silence for a while but it was not long before it was broken by a voice...
"Oh the shark, babe, has such teeth dear, and it shows them, pearly white. Just a jackknife has old MacHeath, babe and he keeps it … ah … out of sight!"
Moody blinked... he was singing... a small child had been mauled to death by a werewolf only six hours ago... and he was singing...
Moody turned his head towards the Head Auror, "this is the best you could get?" Moody questioned softly,
"Word on the street is he's the best werewolf hunter available." The Auror explained, though his look was sceptical.
"Damn straight I am" Interrupted a cheery voice; Moody looked to his left and down a short distance until he could look the hunter in the eye.
"And I'm not a bad singer either"
Several Aurors who heard the comment simply snorted.
The hunter turned around so he was walking backwards, "Hey! Unless you are capable of doing better, you can shut it!" he ordered haughtily. The Aurors grumbled in an early morning piss-off-or-I'll-beat-you-with-a-big-stick-,-burn-what's-left-in-oil-and-feed-it-to-my-hungry-nargles sort of way. Hysterical laughter was the unfazed response from Boewyn who then turned back around and resumed singing.
Moody groaned... he really hoped this guy was worth putting up with, or he may have to do something drastic. Something about this guy seriously irked Moody.
"So, what do they call you, chap" An arm reached up and flung itself over Moody's shoulders, well as far over Moody's shoulders it could reach. After a few attempts it gave up and linked through Moody's arm. Moody turned his head and glared at Boewyn, then pulled his arm free.
"My name is Alastor Moody" Moody replied irately.
"That's unfortunate" Boewyn replied, taking Moody's hand and patting the back of it sympathetically. "Still, I suppose you could shorten it to Al. That sounds a lot better."
"Oh no it's not" Moody retorted, he HATED being called Al.
"Sure it is!" Came the eager reply, Moody looked down into the wide-eyed and scarred, eager face of the young hunter. Seeing all of Moody's attention was focussed on him, Boewyn grinned widely.
"I like you" Moody was informed.
"I don't think I like you" Moody replied shortly.
"Pity" came the reply as they walked up the path of the house. "Especially since we have to work together" Boewyn slapped Moody on the back, "well, at least we've got some time to get to know each other."
The distraught Mother and Father came out of the house and the Head Auror went forwards to speak with them. Moody stared in disgust at Boewyn who was still grinning like a deranged maniac.
"Mr. Bennet, if you please" Called the Head Auror.
Boewyn threw Moody a salute, "Gonna be a lot of fun working with ya, Al."
As Moody watched him walk up to the door he came to an unsurprising revelation. "I think I hate that man" he muttered under his breath.
End Note: This is technically a one-shot. However I left the ending open in case I feel like writing more.
I know it's not much and I apologise to all my readers for being a really crappy author this past year, but I'm hoping to get back into the swing of writing again. I've had some ideas for original stories which I am considering working on and maybe posting on fictionpress... who knows?
No one other than Moody and Boewyn are named in this story, solely because I suck at naming characters... The closest resemblance to a name is "Head Auror"...
The song Boewyn sings is Mack the Knife, with the lyrics from the Bobby Darin version.
And –gasp- Boewyn doesn't drink in this story!
Typing in the dark is hard... but only when I try and look at the keyboard...
Dedicated to: A-Pink-Rose... who writes a lot better than me and makes me feel superfluous... Some friend you are!!!! –cries on Boewyn's shoulder-
-crawls back into tomb, but leaves the door open a crack so reviews can get in-