A/N: Hey ya'll. Long time no see. I'd apologize for the incredibly long update time, but I won't apologize for something out of my control. As it turns out, my muse decided that it needed a younger, more attractive author. Since it left, i've been trying my best to ploug along. This is the result of that. I'm not completely happy with it, but I knew that my life was hanging by an increasingly thin threadthe longer it took. Luckily, I've recently met a new muse. Unluckily, it is focused on a new story idea for the moment. I will endeavor to shift the attention, but it may take a little bit of time. Fear not, this story will be finished. until next time, enjoy.
Ta-da
"Arthur!"
Arthur Wealsey sullenly rose his head to see none other than Hermione Granger standing in his office. He hadn't seen the young woman since his daughter's graduation (not that she'd been there to support the youngest Weasley, of course). Even more shocking were the three people behind her.
Sirius Black stood tall and proud, his face actually smiling. The lord of the Black family was his brazen old self. Not the broken man that had taken his place when his godson was imprisoned. Arthur couldn't help but wonder why the man was in such a good mood, even with Harry's recent...exodus... from Azkaban.
The real shocker, however, came from the presence of his twin sons. Fred and George hadn't even written him in years, and here they were. Their faces still held those mischievous grins as they gazed at their father.
"Boys...Hermione...Sirius. Its been too long. Why are you here?"
"Actually, Dad..." started Fred.
"We're only here..." continued George.
"So that we can hear the answers to his questions." they finished together, both pointing to a spot behind him.
"And I will get my answers." rumbled a voice right next to his ear. Even through the schooled bass and rasp, Arthur could recognize the voice of any one of his children, be they by birth or choice.
"Harry..."
"That's Riddick to you."
"Riddick?"
"Good boy. Now...you're gonna tell me why you let me get shipped off to Azkaban."
--oo00HPR00oo--
And he tells me. He tells me about the old goat-fucker coming to the Burrow. Tells me about the impassioned speech on how I'd killed Cedric. Of course Mr and Mrs Weasley would believe Dumbeldore. Only person I've seen more loyal to the geezer is Hagrid.
I want to believe him. I really do, But I was fucked over pretty bad. Part of me wants to slit his throat, but I can't without knowing the truth. Luckily, I have an ace up my sleeve.
--oo00HPR00oo--
"I'm calling in the debt your family owes me, Arthur." Riddick said, voice harsh. "We all know that a debt owed by one member of the family can be claimed through another. You tell one lie until I release you, the magic will kill you. Do you understand?"
"Yes." The red head immediately straightened as the magic flowed through his body.
"Was it Albus Dumbledore who convinced you and your wife that it was Harry Potter that murdered Cedric Diggory?" Hermione overtook the interrogation, enunciating each question for maximum accuracy and minimum chance for loopholes.
"Yes."
"Did you truly believe that Harry Potter was guilty of killing Cedric Diggory?"
"N-yes."
"Did you or did you not believe he was guilty of killing Cedric Diggory?"
"Neither before, nor after the trial."
"Then why did you not speak in his defense?"
"I don't know."
--oo00HPR00oo--
Hunt Log: day 28
Been two weeks since that fucker ghosted my team. He thinks that its over, that he scared me off. Little prick was right about one thing, though. Went with a seven-man team this time. Even managed to hook up with some kinda magic hit man outa London.
When I find Riddick this time, his ass is grass.
--oo00HPR00oo--
"I can't believe it!" declared Hermione as they flooed back into her flat.
"What's not to believe?" growled Harry. "That Mr and Mrs Weasley were put under compulsion charms? Or that that motherfucker Dumbledore would actually use them like that?"
"Both! Neither! I don't know."
"What do we do now?" asked the twins simultaneously.
"I think it's time I pay a visit to an old friend." rumbled Riddick.
"Who are you-" started Hermione, turning to find him gone.
"How does he-"
"Do that?"
--oo00HPR00oo--
It had been a month since the note was carved into his desk. A month since he'd hired that bloody muggle to hunt Potter down. With no word of success, it was safe to assume that rookie auror Weasley was...how to put this diplomatically...scared shitless.
"That's what I get for hiring a muggle." he muttered.
"Good..." came the deep voice he'd been dreaming of for the past month. "That answers one question. That means we'll be done that much sooner."
Ron spun to see nothing. A relieved sigh escaped his lips as he dropped into his seat and tried to dispel the violent shivers that continued to travel his spine. The same shivers that only increased as a cold, sharp edge grazed his throat.
"Hey, mate..." came the voice from next to his ear. "How've you been?"
"H-harry?"
"That's right. Though I tend to go by Riddick these days."
A small cut appeared on Ron's neck as his nervous gulp expanded his throat.
"W-why are you here?"
"Ah-ah, mate. I'm asking the questions here. Number one...why did you betray me?"
"D-dumbled-dore promised that me and G-ginny would get your money when you went to Azkaban."
"I thought we were friends, Ron."
"Please..." a malfoy-esque cockiness worked its way into the word before the knife dug a little deeper into the warm flesh of his neck. "You weren't worth being friends with. Mr. Nobility. Mr. Humble. It was pathetic. The plan was to, originally, use you as a springboard in celebrity status, but you were to weak to use your fame. Therefore, neither could I."
"Then why did you stay around me for so long?" The anger in Riddick's voice was cold. So cold that the very air seemed to frost.
"Simple...I pitied you."
Ron was wrenched around to stare into the other man's eyes. Gone was the green. Gone was the white. Gone was the black. All that was left was a screen of solid silver. The surface was so perfect that Ron saw his own terrified eyes in the reflection.
He knew that he was going to die. This was not Harry Potter. This was Riddick. There was no chance of forgiveness by this man. The shivers intensified as the knife was raised to his temple. He felt the impossibly sharp point pierce his skin ever so slightly. His eyes closed as tears leaked from underneath the lids.
"Please...don't." he whimpered.
"Why not, Ron?"
No answer came as the auror degraded into a pathetic mass. The tears flowed even as the knife was reverently removed.
"No..." Riddick drawled, catching Ron's attention. "Not today. Watch your back, Weasley. I will come back for you."
He turned and walked out of the cubicle, leaving the quivering man to drown in his own tears. Eventually, Ron composed himself and dashed out into the corridor. There was no sign of Riddick and the auror, sighing in immense relief, returned to his desk.
As he sat down, the young auror cautiously glanced around. He dropped his head onto his desk and closed his eyes.
"Remember...I can always find you."
The ghostly voice echoed through Ron's cubicle as he head shot up and whipped around.
Nothing.
Fear washed over him, trying to drown him in its dark depths. The flood left his mind with only two possible choices. Riddick had managed to infiltrate the ministry on Merlin knows how many occasions. He, one of wizarding Britain's most wanted, had simply strolled through the auror forces to speak to him. If the fugitive could casually enter one of the most secure places in Britain, then how could anything stop him. Thus his choices were to a) hide in fear and wait for the eventual retribution or b) take the chance from his 'best mate'.
He chose the latter.
--oo00HPR00oo--
She groggily awoke to see a pair of red eyes staring back at her. Her gaze swiveled around the dank dungeon, for no other word could be used to describe the stone walls and barred windows.
"Well, well my little seer. It seems as though you are finally awake." The voice was filled with a cold power. Normally, the words of Lord Voldemort could bring anyone, shivering, to their knees. However, she smiled serenely as her senses detected fear.
"So it does...May I ask you why you have brought me here, Mr. Riddle?"
"You will not address me by that filthy muggle name!" hissed the dark lord.
"Very well then," came the calm reply, "but you have not answered my question."
"I haven't, have I?" Voldemort was understandably nonplussed at her lack of fear, but kept it hidden. "You, my dear, are here to assist me. I know of your abilities, and I want you to tell me how this war shall end. Look into the future, and tell me of my victory."
"I'm afraid it doesn't work quite like that, my lord. The future is not fixed. I see possible outcomes of probable events. I see the odds, I guess one could say."
"You will tell me what you see, woman!" he seethed, pulling his wand.
"My abilities, as you put it, would be of no use to you if obscured by pain, my lord. I suggest you refrain from torturing me."
Voldemort was openly shocked at her quiet bravado. His wand tip drooped as he stared into the wide eyes...eyes without a hint of his accustomed to fear. Eventually, he reinstated his usual imperious facade.
"Very well then. Tell me what you see...or we shall pay a visit to your precious husband. I believe he works for the ministry as a creature handler, correct?"
"You can believe whatever you wish, my lord. Who am I to tell you what is right and what is wrong. What I can tell you, however, is that the one you seek will be departing from the Ministry of magic in thirty minute's time."
With out another word, the Dark Lord turned and swept out of the cell, cloak billowing behind him.
"To pursue my husband, Mr. Riddle," she sneered quietly, "is to pursue an arse-whooping of grand proportions. You shall learn this soon."
--oo00HPR00oo--
Can't fucking believe it. I couldn't do it. All that time spent dreaming about it. All that time waiting for the chance, and I couldn't fucking kill him. Oh well. Doubt that the bloody prat'll last two months before he either goes crazy with fear. Or kill himself. Figured a stroll through a nearby wizarding park on the way back to Mione's would help clear my head. A slight obscuring charm lets me enjoy the sun without fear. Been a long while since I've just stared at the sky. Oh...looks like it won't happen yet.
--oo00HPR00oo--
Draco sneered as he as he took in the tattered appearance of Harry Potter, aka Riddick. The robes dirty and shredded. The hair even more wild than before.
"Pathetic. Crabbe, Goyle." His two favorite flunkies turned their dull gazes towards their leader. Seeing his signal, they charged out into the open clearing that their target had just entered. Not one to dirty his hands when not necessary, Draco remained in the shadow of the trees to watch as Potter was surrounded by his twenty-strong ambush party.
"Potter!" declared nameless DE number ten, put in charge of the ultimatum. "Our master has demanded one of the two things. Your presence before him...or your death. Choose now."
The decision never came as loud 'Fumpf's sounded throughout the clearing. Each and every member of the DE team slumped to the ground.
"You've been a hard tag, Riddick." The voice came from a scraggy man in muggle clothes as he stepped from the tree line. Draco's eyebrows rose critically at the name, but any further introspection was postponed as Potter spoke, his voice deep and raspy.
"Toombs. I thought we had an agreement."
"Sorry, kid. I didn't agree ta shit!"
"You shoulda let it be, Toombs."
"Sure..." As the two exchanged comments, six other people cautiously walked into the clearing and surrounded Potter in a loose circle. They all wore muggle tactical clothing and carried long, metallic weapons.
'Guns.' thought Malfoy. 'Filthy, barbaric muggles.'
"I see you got a new crew, Toombs. Did ya tell 'em what happened to the last one?"
"Wait a bloody minute!" declared one of the individuals with a clear British accent. "That's Harry Potter!"
"Ah...a wizard. You're learnin' Toombs."
"Won't matter. You ain't usin any a those magic tricks this time. Now put your hands up."
Potter slowly rose his arms, showing his bare arms to all.
"Nothing up my sleeves."
With that, the boy-who-lived erupted into action. Bringing his hands to his waist, he pulled two silver objects from what seemed like nowhere. Before any of the muggles could move. Riddick's hands flashed out to the sides. The two mercenaries to his left and right reared back, silver knives lodged in their throats. Not waiting, Riddick began to turn his upper body while keeping his feet still. Each time his shoulders lined up with opposite adversaries more blades were pulled from what seemed like invisible pockets and hurled. Pairs of mercenaries died in a clockwise pattern until only Toombs was left. His planted rotation having forced his knees to collapse, Riddick finished his move in a low crouch as the last blade buried itself in the muggle's heart.
The man called Toombs lay sputtering on his back, the sharp blade lodged in his chest. Potter slowly rose from the twisted crouch and made his way to the dying mercenary. Looking down into the rapidly paling face, he gave a pitying shake of his head.
Placing one palm on his lower abdomen and the knuckles of the other hand on his lower back, Potter gave a deep bow from the waist before uttering a formal "Ta-da" before disappearing.
"Hmm..." was all the comment Draco made before reviving his assault group and dissapparating.
A/N: And there you go. I hope that Ron's fate is satisfactory to all. I tried to, while still personifying Riddick, keep the essence that is Harry Potter. Later.