Chapter 1
Raridan
There are two wolves who live in us all:
One evil—full of anger, envy, and greed.
One good—full of love, hope and faith.
Which one wins?
The one that you feed.
~ Cherokee proverb
Once upon a time there was a big, bad wolf who was neither as big nor as bad as the stories made him out to be. In reality, he just wanted to live a quiet life in the woods. But the townspeople convinced themselves the wolf was a villain, and they feared him. It wasn't his fault that he was a creature of darkness and, as such, that he always returned to the Dark. Still, the townspeople were afraid, so they tried to exterminate him, because that was the only way they could live happily ever after.
They failed. Now, it's the wolf's turn.
...oOo...
[Spring, 1999]
[22 years ago]
"No, not that one!" Travis launched himself across the bed and snatched The Three Little Pigs from his mother's hand, returning it to the shelf under the night stand.
Matthew rolled his eyes as he climbed beneath the thread-bare blankets, vowing to tune his family out. He'd outgrown bedtime stories years ago. The war had made it painfully obvious that there was no such thing as happily ever after. But Travis—well, he was too young to remember all of that, and Matthew didn't have the heart to tell him that the stories Mum read every night were nothing more than exaggerated lies.
"Why not that one?" Mum asked, sitting lightly on the edge of the bed and causing the mattress to dip under her weight.
"Because the wolf's the bad guy in that one." Travis didn't even look up as he rifled through their small collection of books.
Matthew poked his head out just long enough to mutter, "The wolf's always the bad guy, Tray, 'cause it's a wolf," before withdrawing again to the warmth of the covers.
"Well, I like wolves." Even though Matthew couldn't see him, there was no mistaking the indignation in his voice. "I'd be a wolf if I could. They're better than crummy, old people, at least."
"Travis! What's gotten into you?" Mum asked.
Matthew peeked out to find his brother sitting on the floor with his arms crossed and his lip stuck out in a pout, making it clear that he had no intention of answering.
"He's just mad 'cause the Poke boys were making fun of him again today."
"Oh, dear. Are they still giving you a hard time?" The mattress springs groaned in protest as Mum stood, her dress whispering against her heels as she went and squatted by his side. "I'll call up Mrs. Poke in the morning. I've got a few choice words for her and her husband."
As much as Matthew enjoyed the idea of a confrontation—Mum could get downright scary when she wanted—he also noted the terror-stricken look on Travis' face. No boy wanted his mother interfering. Just imagine what the other kids would say when they found out.
"It's all right, Mum. I took care of it," Matthew said, slipping the blanket down to his shoulders so he could see out.
"I'm afraid to ask, but what exactly did you do?"
"Nothing. I just asked 'em to stop."
Mum quirked her eyebrows, pursed her lips, and gave him the look. The one that said she knew better than to believe that and it'd do him well to not lie, if he knew what was good for him.
"And that didn't work, so I punched him in the face."
"He made Bradley cry," Travis added, stifling a giggle behind his pudgy, little hand.
"Matthew John Morgan, what have I told you about violence?"
Matthew winced at the way his mother's voice gained a shrill, flute-like quality to it when she started a lecture—except without the same melodic ability.
"Relax, Mum, no one saw me."
"Well, there's that, I suppose." She sighed, making it clear that she was far too exhausted to go over this for easily the hundredth time, with it always falling on deaf ears. "Next time, you let me handle it, understood?"
"Sure, Mum," Matthew agreed, though he shook his head as he rolled so his back was facing her. Like that would ever happen. The kids didn't need any more reasons to tease Travis.
"Here." Mum swooped Travis into her arms, ruffling his wheat-colored hair as she carried him to the bed. Matthew scooted over to make room for them both. Travis pressed against his back, sandwiched between him and Mum. "I've got a story about a wolf that was a sort of a hero. My father told it to me when I was a little older than you."
"Back when you lived in America?"
"That's right. I grew up in Ohio, before I met your father and moved here. This was a legend from the 1800s, when people were settling Ohio. They lived mostly off of farming and livestock, so they ran into a bit of trouble when wolves started killing their livestock. To solve the problem, they decided to hunt the wolves."
"I don't like this story," Travis whined.
"Just listen. It gets better, I promise. There was one wolf, though, who always evaded the hunters. His name was Old Raridan. The hunters managed to kill all the other wolves, creating a wolf graveyard of sorts at a place known as Big Rock. All that was left was Old Raridan and his mate, and he protected her fiercely. There were rumors that Old Raridan was immortal, that he couldn't be killed at all, but that wasn't really true. He was just in love, and people and wolves alike will go to great lengths for those they love. So when the hunters finally managed to corner his mate and shoot her, Old Raridan descended on them, chasing their dogs away and rescuing his wounded love. The hunters opened fire on them both. Despite being mortally wounded, Old Raridan dragged his mate away from the hunters and up Big Rock, where no humans dared to go. There, they died together. To this day, it's said that Old Raridan still haunts the forest around Big Rock, chasing away intruders and protecting any wolves that venture into his domain."
Mum paused to let the story sink in. Travis sniffed but otherwise remained silent. After a minute, he declared, "I don't like it."
"Why not?"
"You didn't say they lived happily ever after."
"That's because they died, stupid," Matthew said. He heard the "nya" as Travis stuck his tongue out, but he didn't bother to roll over and look.
"I wanted them to live happily ever after," Travis whined.
"They died in the arms of someone they loved. Who's to say they weren't happy, after living a long and prosperous life together?"
Matthew scoffed and buried himself deeper in the blanket, swallowing all the things he wanted to say. Even if it was the truth, he still didn't have the heart to tell his brother that no one really lived happily ever after—not Muggles, not Wizards, and certainly not wolves.
...oOo...
[October 19, 2021]
[present day]
"Raridan?"
He started, freeing himself from the memories that had captivated him. How long had he been standing there in the crisp evening air? At least an hour, judging by the fast-approaching sunset. The sky was already blazing overhead with violent reds and golds. It promised to be a nice night; what more could one ask of the full moon?
"What is it?" Raridan asked over his shoulder, not bothering to look back. She would forgive him eventually for his biting tone. After all, they were mates. This was the one place he went to be alone, so if he could forgive her trespasses, then she could forgive his lack of manners.
"Everyone's in place. It's our turn now. Are you ready?" Her voice sounded almost like a purr, and he could feel his edge softening. It was a power she always had over him, like a siren lulling him to his doom. Even if that were the case, he'd gladly follow her, regardless.
"Of course."
Raridan squatted in front of the headstone he had spent all afternoon staring at, tracing a grimy finger over the words that he'd come to know so well.
Travis Stanley Morgan
1995 – 2004
And they lived happily ever after.
"This one's for you, little brother," he said under his breath, patting the stone lightly before standing up. "Let's go, Ylva."
She looped her arm through his, squeezing his forearm gently. She was a pristine marble statue in the fading light, stoic features chiseled from stone, golden hair glowing like a halo. But there was a shadow that flickered in her china-blue eyes. She was ready for the hunt tonight. Eager for it, even.
The world distorted around them, a swirling vortex of colors, and Raridan squeezed his eyes shut as his stomach lurched. No matter how many times he Apparated, he'd never get used to the sensation.
When he opened his eyes, they were at Scotland Place. It was a very Muggle-looking street, with cars rumbling by on occasion and an electric yellow glow leaking out from the windows of the tall buildings. The street lights were just turning on in preparation for the coming darkness, and the streets themselves were only populated by the occasional straggler.
"Are you sure about this?" Ylva asked as they rounded the corner, checking one final time that no one was paying attention to them.
"I'm more certain than I've ever been, my dear."
Raridan held open the door to the red phone booth, and Ylva flashed him a coy smile as she entered. He followed close behind her and dialed 62442. There was a slight grinding as the phone booth started to slide down towards the belly of the Ministry.
Raridan smiled as he caught sight of the sky one last time. It wouldn't be long now and the full moon would be rising. As they were swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel, he whispered, "I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in."
Author's Note: Written for the Quidditch Through the Ages Multi-Chapter Challenge from the Diagon Alley II forum, so this will be a multi-chapter. It's supposed to be 13 chapters, but we'll see if it grows on me towards the end. :3 There's an awful lot of experimentation in this multi-chap, so if something doesn't work, feel free to let me know. I also love and appreciate reviews, especially con-crit. :)
Prompts:
(dialogue) "I'm more certain than I've ever been."
(situation) This chapter should focus on the tools, symbols, and setting up your characters. You're laying the foundations here, setting things up so that everything is in place for your story to begin.