Name: Witchcraft and a Rebel
Rated: PG13-R for later chapters. I'll warn you what happens. I'm not sure entirely yet. I know lots of abuse.
Disclaimer: JKR is God. BONES is God. I own nothing. Except my own character. (His name will be revealed in Chapters 2 or 3.)
This story is kind of Wolf's Rain based... So shoot me. It's not Wolf's Rain though. It has next to nothing to do with WR. Also, I got the idea of my charactor from tsume.hack 's story Running Renegade. Excellent story. Read it. Now. I command you.
The chilling breeze whipped through the boy's blacker-than-night hair. He sat on the hillside, gazing down at the shack below. It was a summer cottage apparently belonging to a professor of some school that he had never heard about. That didn't matter to him. He didn't go to school, and never planned to. He never saw much point, being that he knew it could give him none of the knowledge in which he wished to gain. He highly doubted anyone could. After all, he was the supposedly last one left.
His cold blue-gray eyes narrowed as he saw the man occupying the cottage enter it. Great. Just great. All the more difficult for him to get what he needed. He had attempted to rob this house before, only to find to his great surprise, he had been stunned and interrogated. He had, of coarse, lied his way through. He gave stupid, silly answers that he was certain that the man who had caught him didn't believe. Still. He managed to escape minutes after being caught, due only to the fact that in mid sentence, the man had begun clutching his left arm in pain, his eyes closed and painful hisses escaping him. The boy had taken the man's momentarily weakness as a chance to escape, and escape he did. The man had thrown a few curses his way, but given his advanced speed and agility, he had dodged them. Idiot. Stupid wizards, always using their magic to do their job for them, whether it be to cook a meal or catch an enemy. Pfft. What weaklings.
When he felt the time to be right, the boy stood up. It was about ten o'clock at night, and the sickle moon bathed the boy's pale skin in it's cool, soft glow. The boy felt his stiff muscles tingle in response to the moon's light. He felt great, strong, as if he could take on the world. He wanted to howl his head off. But, that would be damn near seppuku. Ritualistic suicide. However, he would make himself less noticeable to the cottage and its occupant so he could get in and out, quickly and quietly. He dropped the illusion, and instantly, a blacker-than-night wolf stood where a black haired, pale skin boy clad in a black shirt and dark blue jeans, stood moments before.
The wolf gave a small sigh. He was out of Wolfsbane, a plant that would make his human illusion fully look and feel like a human to all those who encountered him when he had it up. Without it, anyone who touched him would feel his fur instead of skin, and that would ultimately lead to his death. He would still be a wolf, but would just appear as a human. All wolves could do it. Or could have done it, had they not let their idiotic version of pride get in the way. What good was pride if you were dead? He still had pride. His pride told him that he was to not get involved with humans. To steer clear of them as much as possible. To not let himself become a lowly street dog. To spy on the wizards, watching them and learning their ways. To make sure that he didn't get himself killed. His pride was not worn on his sleeve though. He knew what he had to do to survive, and he took what chances he could. He wasn't afraid to die either. He had faced death enough times not to fear it. He knew he had a purpose, though, he wasn't sure what, he felt it. He knew that he shouldn't die, but if he were to about to lose his life, he would accept it, no qualms about it. Enter: His own twisted version of pride and thinking. Instinct.
That was why a fifteen year old boy could be seen wandering through the villages, late at night, looking for something that he could not find. Or at least, he couldn't find it until he heard about this… professor. The Potions Master at some school, who regularly made a potion for some werewolf so it didn't harm anyone. That quickly perked his interest. He had heard of this potion before, and knew of its most important ingredient. Wolfsbane. Very few knew of its whereabouts, and how to grow it and harvest it(he tried once. It was too difficult and complicated, and his efforts were not rewarded), mostly only wolves did. But then, considering that he was the only wolf in the world left, with the exception of werewolves, the thought didn't give him much comfort. Whatever. He needed in and out fast. He slowly crept towards the small house, his black fur shimmering as the moon touched it.
He was sleek and well filled out. The quiet way in which he walked, the way his eyes would shift from here to there, as if studying his surroundings, and how healthy he looked gave away how lethal he was. He was a hunter, a killer. He almost never missed his prey anymore, and was well fed throughout the year. He felt had hunger and starvation before, he knew what it was. He had been born into the world during a time in which his kind had been hunted, and food was scarce. He had gone months with next to no food. Extremely weakened, he had been forced to feed on his brothers. Not something he had ever wanted to do again. Not that I could, he mused to himself.
He froze as soon as he heard voices, his sensitive wolf hearing picking up a few uneasy tones.
"…I assure you Lucius, that the boy had not gotten anything last week. Though, before I had a chance to fully question him, the Dark Lord called."
"Did the boy know? I can assure you Severus, that the Lord will not be pleased to know that the boy had escaped. What if he had been a spy?" The sentence was drawn out, almost accusingly.
There was a silence.
"What are you implying Lucius? You don't honestly think that someone was sent to spy on us, do you? I got a good look at the boy's face. It wasn't a student from Hogwarts and it wasn't a Death Eater. My guess is that it was perhaps a muggle, trying to get himself initiated into some muggle gang. Whatever the reason, I haven't seen the boy since."
'the boy' couldn't help but give a small, toothy grin from his hiding place in the bushes. He enjoyed a challenge, and having two wizards who were suspicious of him provided just that. He needed the Wolfsbane though, and badly. His powerful nose scented the plant, stored carefully in the cabinets. If his nose was correct, which it almost always was, by the end of the night, he could have enough Wolfsbane with him to make his human illusion the best it could possibly be for a full year. The side effects would be great, sapping him of most of his strength for a while. But the danger of being caught as a wolf was greater, and he needed his human illusion up to a point of perfection. It was either an extreme chance of getting killed, or feeling weak and out of commission for a few days. Even someone with less than half a brain could figure that one out.
He cautiously made his way to the cottage, and peeked in the window for a split second, before flattening himself against the ground. The coast was clear. He could still hear the two men talking in the other room of the small cottage, but he was no longer the main topic of their conversation. He fiddled with the window, pushing his snout up against it until it opened. The idiot wizard that left his windows unlocked. All the more easier. He made his way inside, not making a sound. He didn't have much time left to get the Wolfsbane. He could only ingest it on sickle or full moons. A sudden flutter of wings from the other room made him freeze and drop to the ground, slinking into the shadows. He heard on of the wizards pause and open the note attached to the owl. Then, he heard the muttering of "Damn. Dumbledore wants me in his office, now." The owl left, and the wolf heard a rush of flames.
"Malfoy Manor." Said the first voice. Then,
"Dumbledore's office. Sugar Quill."
The men were gone. The boy couldn't believe his great luck. He still acted quietly, as though the men hadn't left the house. His human illusion was still up. No need to risk your neck over being stupid. He quickly broke the lock to the cabinet, grabbed the Wolfsbane and turned to leave when an icy voice cut through him.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here? It seems Severus has a little thief is his summer home."
The wolf turned. Slowly. He was caught. Cold rage, then quickly, fear, rushed through him. The man he was facing was different than the cottage's occupant. This man had cold gray eyes, and blond, almost white shoulder length hair. And the look in his eyes created an image of vast evil. Pure hatred. No human had ever intimidated the wolf as much as this one. Wide eyed, the wolf leapt through the window, the glass cutting into him like razors. He landed, plant in hand, and shot towards the woods. He could have killed the human, or tried to. He yelled at himself for being so stupid. So weak. Running away from his enemy.
"Stupify!" He felt himself freeze up. The same stunning spell that had been used on him just two weeks ago by a different man.
He had never felt fear before, or at least, not fear brought because of a human. His eyes widened as the human came down upon him, wand pointing at his head, and a sinister smile cast on his face.
"The Dark Lord will be pleased. Crucio."
A red light burst through the wand, and the 'boy' felt pain. He fought not to yelp, small whimpers issuing from his throat. It felt as if every fiber in his body was burning, eating him alive. Then came the total blackness.
More Author's Notes:
I will post the 2nd chapter soon. Umyay. So... Reveiw... I need your opinion... o.o Yay. lmao. this fic came to me when I was in a fever and Mt. Dew induced sleep after watching Wolf's Rain, reading Running Renegade again,(read it. Now. ) and reading various fanfics, since I have no life.