Five men walked through the underground city of the werewolves. They stayed closer to the dark and thus remained in human form. They stood in the shadows and in wait.
They had one task to do and it was easy. It was a job that they did best, they knew very well and considered it child's play.
It felt weird for them to be there. To be back in the city that banished them when they sided with her views. They shouldn't be seen as creatures with a disease. To them they were the cure. They were the cure to humanity's fragile state.
She promised she had the cure they needed, a potion to ensure that they would be the future. Their fourth man was set and stationed in authoritative position. Now they needed but only to ensure that she gain one thing. She desired a man be brought to her weak and broken.
'He'd be more compliant,' she'd said.
Body and spirit— she wanted them broken, broken but mendable.
-MENTAL-
Ron waited for another half hour in front of the town's main building at the very end of the catacomb. He moved slowly, whistling a tune to himself, walking down along the cave again. He was getting rather impatient. What was taking the old wolf so long? He grunted, they were wasting too much valuable time there and he could not stop his mind from wandering to the torments that must be befalling both his wife and daughter.
When he reached halfway between the Town Hall and the entrance to the city, he heard the music that Harry was dancing to again. He looked at Harry whom looked so relaxed. Ron thought of the irony of how their places were changed.
Once it was Harry that fretted more in a time of crisis, his head was in the game and focussed. Ron was always the easy going kind of person.
Now Harry's the easy going one and he's the worry warts.
Perhaps Harry's just trying to supress his feelings? Another trait once owned by Ron.
But those were all behind him, or at least that was what he always wanted to believe. He had changed after the war. They all did, the whole Wizarding World changed and not just those whom were there to fight Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters at Hogwarts. Ron personally had changed a fair bit though he did sometimes retain some of his old traits like the easy goingness at times…well not today he wasn't.
He sat there on an old barrel no doubt was filled with fish by the smell of it. He produced the profiles that Colin Morgan had given him a few days ago. He looked at the two pages with pictures of a man on the left page with long black hair, rather messy. His eyes were grey, he was rather round in the belly but big. His name was Alexander Draught, he was a werewolf.
The other was man on the right page of fairer skin than Draught; he was tall and rugged. He also had long hair but displayed blonde. Blue eyes and a golden beard, he was quite the brute. His name was Olaf Dane, werewolf extremist, suspected Death Eater in the Second War, notorious mass-murderer and suspected terrorist in Boston United States of America…he stopped reading when he felt the cool of shadows approach him and looked up.
'What are the odds,' he silently commented when he saw who approached. It was like looking at the profiles again only now they were standing before him. 'What are the odds indeed?'
It was Alexander and on his left was Olaf though they were not in Wolf form, probably because they were in the shadows on the outskirts of town hidden from the moon globe in the centre. Ron waited to see what they wanted but also had his hands by his pocket that contained his wand. Whatever these people wanted, it seemed highly unsavoury. So Ron was less than surprised when Olaf the brute with the beard produced a crowbar from the underlays of his waterproof coat.
Ron stood up but did not move. He just watched as they got closer. Only Alexander looked about his own height yet they both shared the same crazed face. Quickly he surveyed his surroundings. A glass beer bottle on a barrel on his right, a pile of stacked up pieces of wood rising knee high and a magical wand in his pocket. All he needed to do was act quickly and precisely.
When Olaf was roughly an arm's reach away from him they stopped. The brute's shoulders easily rose the same in height with Ron himself with huge stiff muscles this man was not going to be a walk. Ron looked to Alexander, then to Olaf before a nervous smile played itself on his face and instantly, Ron took the bottle on his right and smashed it upon Olaf's huge head. Olaf roared out in pain and the shattered glass sprayed causing Alex to brace his face and back to his right away from them. He stood now right next to the logs and Ron took the initiative to push the bloke over the logs and bolt.
In Mullingar that night, I rested limbs so weary,
Started by daylight, Next mornin' light and airy,
Took a drop of the pure, To keep my heart from sinkin',
That's an Irishman's cure, Whene'er he's on for drinking.
To see the lasses smile, Laughing all the while,
At my curious style, 'Twould set your heart a-bubblin'.
They ax'd if I was hired, The wages I required,
Till I was almost tired, Of the rocky road to Dublin.
Ron heard the song again, echoing as he ran and looked behind. They had quickly recovered and were now in pursuit.
One, two, three, four five,
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack-fol-lol-de-ra.
Ron turned a corner from a house on the outskirts and ran back toward the centre of the town but readjusted when he saw Olaf run up from there with the crowbar. 'Argh, son of a bitch!' he cursed and made for the tunnel. 'Harry!' he called out amidst the singing and the Irish music. 'Harry, I need a little help 'ere, mate!'
In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity,
To be so soon deprived, A view of that fine city.
Then I took a stroll, All among the quality,
My bundle it was stole, In a neat locality;
Something crossed my mind, Then I looked behind;
No bundle could I find, Upon my stick a wobblin'.
Enquirin' for the rogue, They said my Connacht brogue,
Wasn't much in vogue, On the rocky road to Dublin.
-O-
One, two, three, four five,
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack-fol-lol-de-ra.
He kept running and every time he turned around was only to send a return jinx after being fired at by his pursuers. He continued to run with Alex now right behind him, Ron saw a table ahead and dove in, sliding underneath the wooden table with ease and then quickly sliding up again to continue his escape.
'Potter, get your useless arse here and help me!' he yelled.
From there I got away, My spirits never failin'
Landed on the quay As the ship was sailin';
Captain at me roared, Said that no room had he,
When I jumped aboard, A cabin found for Paddy,
Down among the pigs I played some funny rigs,
Danced some hearty jigs, The water round me bubblin',
When off Holyhead, I wished myself was dead,
Or better far instead, On the rocky road to Dublin.
-O-
One, two, three, four five,
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack-fol-lol-de-ra.
He looked behind him and saw Alex jump over the table while Olaf simply threw it to the side. After a while he hit the wall with them too close to turn and run in another direction. He simply punched Alex in the jaw once as quick as lightning before ducking under the attempted swing of Olaf's arm—which had then smashed into Alexander's already hurting head.
Ron had the time to snigger at the scene before running off again to the right, circling around he hoped he would get to the Town Hall again.
Unfortunately when he looked back again, they had recovered and were chasing him once more, though Alex ran with his hand holding the side of his face, misery and pain on his face.
The boys of Liverpool, When we safely landed,
Called myself a fool; I could no longer stand it;
Blood began to boil, Temper I was losin',
Poor ould Erin's isle They began abusin',
"Hurrah my soul," sez I, My shillelagh I let fly;
Some Galway boys were by, Saw I was a hobble in…
Ron then quickly turned around and came in contact with Alex. First he hit Alex's reddened side of the head with his palm, causing the werewolf to fall down and out of the shadows of the buildings and sliding to the centre of the town. In a flash straight after, he jumped up and smashed Olaf's giant head between his palms giving him a massive headache. Then out of nowhere Harry appears and tackles the brute, pushing him into the moon's light.
Then with a loud hurray, They joined in the affray.
We quickly cleared the way, For the rocky road to Dublin
-O-
One, two, three, four five,
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack-fol-lol-de-ra.
The two werewolves both transformed under the moon globe aura yelling and howling at the glowing object hovering above them mysteriously. By instinct the other werewolves stopped their partying and tackled them to the ground. About five of them were needed each as then one of them lodged a vial of liquid down their mouths.
One of the werewolves named Fergus told them it was a serum that helped them by allowing them to keep their minds in Werewolf State.
'Always good to see you, Harry,' he smiled and shook his best friend's hand. He was panting like hell from the run. It was exhilarating to say the least that at the time he felt like he could have run the speed of light but now that he stopped Ron could feel the weight of his body's strain.
'Guys,' Harry referred to the other werewolves, 'hold them together for a bit.' Harry kicked away Alex and Olaf's wands when he saw them reaching for them. Things were turning up quite positively in Harry and Ron's opinion.
-O-
A little girl woke up in a dark circular chamber of stone bricks and wet feet. Rose looked to the ground and saw water surrounding her bare feet.
Where was she?
There was the sound of rushing water. Behind her was a waterfall created by a missing brick a few metres above it. She was in a sort of giant well by her reckoning. Bound by the wrist and seated on the chair. She then felt around the rope.
She smiled.
'Amateurs,' she sighed in relief as she tampered a bit with her bonds and all of a sudden they were loose. 'Death Eaters, right?'
She looked about her, there was no way out except a green light from the top. There was no ceiling but her escape was more than fifty feet high.
But the pricks were also not that perfectly laid. Some were sticking out just the faintest. Perfect to an extent, she thought. Rose then shuddered; she was suddenly cold from the water, rushing quickly and rising up to her ankles.
'Come one, Weasley, you can do this,' she whispered to herself. 'Oh crud, I don't…even know what day it is today. I need to get started on that Potions essay…' she laughed at herself when she realised it. Where her father there he'd have commented on how she had sounded just like her mother. "You're completely mental, you know that…just like mummy," he would say. Thinking about her father had only made her want to cry a bit. She sniffled back her tears for a while 'I need to get out of here.'
She then began to look for a good point to start. After that she started her climb, right next to the falling water.
It was hard and her stiff fingers made feeling for good edges to grip all the more difficult. But she was a flyer and a thumping good one as her father always said especially for her age. She could do this.
'Oh God help me,' she sighed as she searched again for another grip.
She needed to escape, to get out of here and find her mother whom she knew they had also taken. She definitely needed to escape. She was a fabulous flyer but she was not an adapt swimmer. And the water slowly rising below her was definitely too deep for her to feel the ground as she floated.
'Please, help me, dad.'
-O-
Author's Note: I own nothing of the characters and background that I incorporate into my stories. Everything I used is copyrighted by those individual companies that own them. The Characters in Harry Potter belong to J.K Rowling, Stargate to Roland Emmerich, Batman to DC Comics and Bob Kane, and some others to BBC.
Any thoughts? Please review, it does help me and I'm not just talking about appraisals please, I need you to tell me if you see grammar errors, Spelling (Bear in mind that I am an Australian so my Grammar and spelling maybe different in comparison to yours') mistakes and maybe some character flaws. Le hannon("Thank you" in Elvish) Molto grazie. Oh and also I have some other stories on profile that tie in with this one in many ways.