Werewolf Hunting
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the HarryPotterVerse… only this plot. And I only own Boewyn too.
Boewyn: You do not own me.
X'andirth: Yes I do.
Boewyn: …Fine Goes to drink booze.
X'andirth: Oh No! takes booze away No Drinking! I need you sober!
Boewyn: I hate you Glares
X'andirth: That's nice. dance dance
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Chapter Four: Annoying
Boewyn cracked open one eye slowly, only to shut it again immediately. The familiar pains of a hangover came along with his wakening. He groaned and rolled onto his front, reaching behind him he grabbed the sheet of the bed and pulled it over his head. After a moment of sweet, sweet silence and darkness there was a clunking noise heading towards his door. Boewyn groaned and tried to ignore it until something in his brain clicked.
"Shit!" he hissed and threw himself out of bed, landing with a thump on the floor and struggling to get upright. There was silence outside the door then a sharp knock.
"Get up, we need to get moving." Came the voice of the ever so cheerful Auror.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it." Boewyn called giving a quick sweep of the room with his eyes for his clothes.
"Downstairs. 5 minutes." Moody ordered, then there was the clunking of his wooden leg fading as he left the door.
Boewyn raised his hands and gingerly rubbed his temples, taking a much needed moment to compose himself. He made his way to his clothes which were piled at the end of the bed. Boewyn stopped when he passed a mirror and looked at his reflection. Years of hunting werewolves had given him a decent body, muscles visible on his arms and torso. Scars covered much of his skin. Many of them in threes and fours, made from the wild swipes of massive wolf paws. The only thing he currently wore was a werewolf fang tied to a length of leather around his neck and a small gold hoop in the top of his right ear. He ran a finger down the worst and largest of his scars, a rather deep furrow which ran from his right shoulder to his left hip. Tinted with black and red it had been the last scar he had received from a fight with a werewolf.
Boewyn sighed and got dressed slowly, his head pounding, his mouth dry. He stifled another groan, and made his way slowly down to the main part of the Three Broomsticks. Moody was sitting at a table in a secluded corner, Boewyn watched Moody's magical eye whirling around in his head. Many people claimed that the eye was creepy. Boewyn thought it was just weird, it was hard enough being weird as it, broadcasting it was just stupid.
"See you spent the night drinking" Moody noted as he took a drink from his hip flask.
Boewyn just grunted.
Moody snorted in disgust. "Hurry up and eat breakfast. I want to get out of here soon."
"Got it."
It took him only a few moments to order a beer and down it, to Moody's disbelief.
"That's better." He announced cheerfully, the booze taking over his hangover. He walked over to the door calling "Let's move!"
Moody watched him leave, that man had spent a good few hours drinking last night and was now up and about and goddamned cheerful again! And he had downed another beer and, Moody checked the time on the clock behind the bar, it was only nine in the morning. That man was unbelievable and not in a good way.
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Remus shuddered, was it just him, or had it gotten colder in here? He curled up into a tighter ball. Closing his eyes he tried to get to sleep once more. He wasn't sure how long it had been, the ages only being cut by sleep which was frequently broken by nightmares of what might happen. Silently he prayed that someone would find him and get him out of here.
Wherever 'here' is…
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Dumbledore stared out the window distantly, he was alone, bar for his phoenix Fawkes. However if someone had seen his face they would have seen great sadness and worry etched there. He watched the shadows shrink across the grounds as the sun rose higher on the other side of the castle. What he was thinking one could not guess, until he voiced a thought out loud.
"Godspeed Alastor, Boewyn. May you find Remus before it is too late." He whispered softly, Fawkes trilling softly, seemingly in agreement.
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In their dormitory Sirius, James and Peter rose, preparing themselves for another day of school and another day of silence. As one it seemed they all turned to look at Remus' empty bed, as if they were hoping Remus would have suddenly re-appeared in the night, laughing at them for thinking he was gone. But they knew he wouldn't, and besides, Remus wouldn't do something like that. He was the one who worked all their kinks out their crazy plans. He didn't have too much to do with pulling them off. They sighed and left the tower, short one Marauder.
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Boewyn walked slightly ahead of Moody through Hogsmeade, whistling cheerfully. Many would say that he was whistling tunelessly, but what they didn't know was that there was a tune there. It just kept getting lost.
"Am I in charge here or you?" Grumbled Moody bitterly.
"Am I the ex-werewolf hunter or are you?" retorted Boewyn
Moody swore softly but didn't argue.
Boewyn had reached the end of the street where a fence separated the street from a large field. Boewyn vaulted the fence with ease, behind him he heard Moody curse as he struggled to scramble over the fence.
"The way I see it, Al, old buddy, Is that you need me to find this werewolf for you because you can't do it yourself. So therefore, I suggest you go along with me and everything will all work out. The more of your control and pride that you try to gain back the longer this is going to take." Boewyn carefully picked his way among some large boulders, idly listening to Moody struggling along behind him. Auror or not, Moody was getting on in years so this kind of running around wasn't easy for him. Boewyn continued on.
"I know what I am doing, you don't. I used to hunt werewolves, you didn't. I have a hunch I know which way the kid went, you don't. See a pattern here? I can give you more if you like."
"Ok, I get it." Moody grumbled, he sounded annoyed.
"Good! No problems then!" Boewyn's cheerful demeanour had returned in full force and he resumed whistling.
"well?' Moody asked
"Well what?"
"You said you have a hunch about what happened to Lupin." Moody prompted
"Oh that", he reached into his travelling cloak and removed a wand.
"This was on the ground. Something tells me he dropped it when he was stunned."
Moody made a chocking noise.
"How the hell do you know he was stunned? Or even if it's his wand?"
"Simple, it has to be his wand, why else would a wand be siting where he was last seen. And about being stunned. The ground was soft the other day, leaves footprints. Kid's a werewolf, two days after a full moon. Footprints looked different same size, same shoe but one was more indented that the other, he had a limp see? Larger footprints came up behind the kid's. the kid turned to face whoever came up behind him and then the footprints sorta slip out of the pattern. He fell down, right? Then the attacker lifted him up and carried him away."
Boewyn turned to Moody, "got all that, Al"
"I think someone would have noticed a man carrying a boy through Hogsmeade." Moody growled.
"You're wrong. What they would have noticed is a man apparating away with an unconscious lad. What they wouldn't have noticed is a man carrying a poor kid who looked unwell. Anyone asks, the bloke says 'he passed out from the cold' and no more questions are asked. He'd then take the kid somewhere out of the way and then he'd apparate away."
Moody's mouth opened and shut a few times.
He's right. Damn it, he's right. I hate it when he's right.
Boewyn was grinning. "Don't ya hate it when I'm right?" he asked.
Moody cleared his throat. "Now we're following where the man went to find an apparition trace."
"Wrong again, Al. Now we are going to see a friend of mine. I need to get some stuff of a friend of mine. Then, we'll head back to Hogsmeade, find the tracks, follow them to the apparition point and follow the trace."
Boewyn turned and began walking and whistling again, heading towards the trees on the far side of the field.
"I just hope Mik remembers me, let alone willing to give me something."
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Authors Note: Wow… two chapter in one day. Man I have a lot of free time on my hands.