The Lion and the Dog

The Full Moon had left Ariel more irritated than usual. Ollie could sense that from a mile away even without the advantage of Werewolf senses. So, it seemed, could everyone else in the school. They were avoiding Ariel like the plague and that was exactly how he wanted it. He had a disease and he was angry enough to want to pass it on at present. Perhaps that was what drove his father to the madness that now surrounded him. That was the wrong statement to make. Madness required people to lose control of themselves mentally. Fenrir, however, knew exactly what he was doing. He knew the difference between right and wrong, he just spent more time on the side of the latter than he did the former. No, he wasn’t mad. Fenrir just lacked the consciousness Ariel had; although sometimes it was hard to tell.

Stalking into Hogsmeade, his Italian leather on his feet slicing into the snow, the murderous gaze in Ariel’s eyes sent a few younger students fleeing. There was a slight limp in his left leg where Gary had bit him and the Matron of the Hospital Wing was insistent that he use the cane until she deemed the wound healed. It was the bite of a werewolf. Ariel knew for a fact that it would never heal properly. Perhaps the muscle would re-grow and perhaps the skin would seal it in but it would pound like the original bite would as the Full Moon came upon Ariel. It worked the same way Fenrir’s did. It was like a homing beacon and it wouldn’t rest until Ariel rid the world of Gary; which he would next month if everything worked in his favour. Gary was furious. Ariel had taken out Trent. Gary wanted revenge.

The feeling of a fresh kill, fresh blood was better than sex for werewolves; especially Greybacks. Ariel past experiences with women had been cut and dry in the strictest of senses. They were there for his benefit, not their own. It was all rather tedious in Ariel’s opinion. It was ecstasy at times though, when he was imagining the woman to be someone else entirely. Sex was addictive though, that man-whore in the year below was proof of that, and Ariel knew how addictive blood could be, how addictive killing could be. He limited the experiences as much as possible because of this knowledge. Trent was just good old fashioned fun. If Ariel had to kill then it was going to be members of his father’s pack, no one else.

Smirking at the satisfaction that brought, Ariel looked up at the sign that was swinging lazily in the breeze. He stepped up onto the porch of the Hog’s Head and opened the door of the pub. Ariel strode inside, finding the pub virtually empty, and shut the door behind him. He walked over to his usual table by the window and rested his cane against the windowsill. Ariel rolled his shoulders back, dropping his bag onto the floor, and shrugged off the coat that was wrapped around him. Ariel lowered himself into the chair nearest him and leaned down to retrieve a book from his bag. He lifted his legs up to rest them on the chair opposite and opened the book up. One of the barmaids wandered over with a Gin and Tonic and Ariel thanked her absently, placing a few Galleons into her outstretched palm, reading all the while. Peace at last.

Andrew was not having the most fun right now. Winter was a harsh mistress, and Andrew hoped that she knew it. The bitter cold left Andrew's teeth chattering non stop, barely allowing him to breath at points. It seemed like a knife was stabbed into his nostrils every time he would try to breath in his nose, so he thought it'd be better to just breathe through his mouth. Keeping his arms wrapped around his chest, the 16 year old trudged over to the Hog's Head. That place had been filled with old and new memories alike, but hopefully no more memories would come out of this simple visit. Boy was he wrong. He walked through the front door, the cold desperately forcing it's way into the bar, but Andrew had closed it in time. He sighed in relief and quickly sat on a table, near the North side of the building.

As Andrew sat, he rested his head onto his back, trying to let himself warm up in the somewhat heated building. At that point did he wish he was in America, at least there would be some sort of heating avaliable. In all his thoughts, he had accidently ignored the waitress asking him what he wanted. Once Andrew snapped out of it however, he quickly asked for a Butterbeer and sent her on her way. A minute later, the waitress returned and handed Andrew the cup. Paying her the amount for the drink, he thanked her and drank some of the beverage, feeling himself warm up almost instantly. "Thank god," he muttered.

Parts of Fenrir’s book were really beginning to rub Ariel the wrong way. He’d been ‘gifted’ with it at Christmas much to the dismay of his mother and Ariel had thumbed through it on New Year’s Day when she’d finally plucked up the courage to owl it to him. Parts were in Braille, parts were in Greek, some were in Ancient Runes and some parts were in what looked like Morse code. It was driving Ariel around the bend. He’d written the Greek out in English. That was tucked into the back of the book. The Braille, Ancient Runic and Morse code sections were giving him some trouble though. Sighing, Ariel put the book on the table and reached forward to pick up his Gin and Tonic. Ariel tapped the nail of his index finger absent-mindedly against the glass and hummed thoughtfully.

Putting the glass down, Ariel reached into his pocket and took his Kombolói out. He held the beads in his fist and began to twist one of them with his thumb as he stared at the embroidery on the chair opposite him. Then, a thought hit him. Ariel dropped his legs down and put the Kombolói on the table next to the Gin and Tonic. He flipped the pages of the book and stopped on some runes that were slightly easier to decode. Ariel beat the tips of his fingers against the pages in frustration and looked around to see one of the barmaid’s hand a student – Ariel was betting he was in Gryffindor – a Butterbeer. Sighing, Ariel resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to ask something of the student and he picked up his beads again.

Ariel put the charm on the end into his mouth and bit it gently with his teeth. He felt the canine cut into it and removed the charm from his mouth. He wiped it clear with his thumb and looked over at the boy. “Excuse me,” Ariel said loudly and brazenly, “forgive me for the intrusion of your...alone time...but you wouldn’t happen to have a quill with you would you? Or perhaps a pencil. Yes, a pencil would be much preferred.”

Andrew was brought of his peaceful moment and turned his head to the mysterious stranger sitting near him. Andrew nodded calmly and began to go through his pockets. He hated the sound of metal whenever something clanged onto Merlin's Gloves, his two magical gauntlets that increased his magical abilities, because it made some weird metallic sound. Finally he found a small number 2 pencil in his pocket and gently threw it underhanded to the stranger. "Here ya go," he said, hoping the stranger didn't hear the odd sound. But what could Andrew do? No matter what, the gloves somehow always appeared on Andrew's hands if they were more than 2 feet away, and they felt heavy and clunky, even if they were transformed into 2 soft mittens. It was weird.

Grabbing the mug again, Andrew toke another swig of the butterbeer, the contents warming up his entire body. Yet something grabbed his eye as he toke a drink. The type of book the stranger was reading. Just from his peripheral vision, he could notice some odd sort of writing. That was certainly strange for a student to be reading that. "Whatcha reading?" Andrew asked, more of his American accent escaping his mouth. He always felt like some sort of stranger in London, and the American accent made it worse.

Ariel sat back into the chair and brought his arm up. He rested his elbow on the post and hooked his thumb nail onto his canine. He brought his index finger up to rest on his temple and he watched as the strange boy fumbled around for a piece of writing equipment. Ariel’s ears twitched at the sound of something metal hitting something of the same material inside the boy’s pockets. Ariel’s pale blue eyes flicked up and he studied the boy curiously and saw that the boy seemed equally put off by the sound. Ariel’s eyes flicked to the boy’s hand when he brought the pencil out of his pocket and he watched as it was thrown towards him. Ariel jerked his index finger towards him and the pencil dropped out of the air, into his outstretched hand.

“Thank you,” He said simply, leaning forward to look at the book. Ariel pressed the tip of the pencil against the page and translated the rune. He scribbled the translation above the rune and progressed onto the next one, his mind still trying to figure out what the sound had been. It was too heavy a collision for it to be coins. Galleons packed a punch but only when there was a large concentration in one place. No, it had to be something else. Ariel lifted his head, as if to say something but he thought better of it and the boy asked something instead. Ariel glanced down at the book and then back at the boy. “Runes,” he replied. He looked down at the runes and jotted down another translation. “What part of America are you from?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the book and jotting down another translation.

Runes? That was most peculiar. Not to mention how he was able to catch a pencil in mid flight. Odd. Something had to have been up with this kid. Probably thought the same thing about Andrew as well. "Runes eh?" he asked, not wanting to get too detailed in his question. Maybe the person would just ease his way into the conversation and give a more general description. To answer the person's question, Andrew replied "New York. Where you from?" From the look of it, he had to have been somewhere near the area. Probably Russia maybe. Yet that was very unlikely.

Now Andrew was sitting in the silence once more, so Andrew toke another gukp of the butterbeer and looked back at the runes discretely. It didn't look like anything he had ever seen before, which got Andrew into his investigative mode. There had to be a way of finding out.

Ariel picked up the Kombolói and began to push the beads down the chain as he concentrated on one particularly difficult rune. Werewolf runes were slightly different to normal Runes. They were older and were often written wrong because they were first written in the hand of a transformed werewolf. That was why they were first translated into normal Runes and then into English or whatever language the translator knew best. Ariel turned the pencil around and tapped it against the pages of the book. He frowned and turned the pencil back around. His concentration was broken by the boy’s voice. Ariel looked up and frowned at the boy. “Yes Runes,” he replied impatiently. Ariel turned his head back to the book and translated an easier Rune. He turned his attention back to the one that had stumped him before as the boy spoke again.

Sighing to himself, Ariel lifted his head and put the pencil down. He picked up his Gin and Tonic and brought it to his lips. He drank some of it before placing it back down on the coaster. Ariel put the Kombolói down beside the glass and looked at the Gryffindor. “New York,” he repeated slowly. The question was returned and Ariel pursed his lips. “Scotland,” he said with a shrug. “My mother was Greek and my father was from...all over I suppose,” Ariel smiled ruefully, imagining Jack’s face if she’d been there with him hearing those words. He shook his head and looked back down at the runes. Ariel knew he wasn’t being very social but he had no reason to be really. He’d come for peace. Then again, he did owe the kid something; he was borrowing his pencil after all.

“Dog Star,” Ariel whispered, figuring out what the Runes were pointing to. Orion, that’s what they were pointing to. How ironic. Ariel reached down and opened his bag. He took out the clock face he’d stolen from one of the Professors during a detention. He put it down on the table and spun the arms around. He watched as they turned, magic aiding them somewhat. The arms stopped at ten to twelve and Ariel pursed his lips. He jotted the time down in the margin and pushed the clock face away from him, frustrated. “Bastard,” he muttered under his breath, smirking and picking up his Gin and Tonic. Fenrir was an arse. He couldn’t have sent Ariel a puppy could he? No, it had to be a book that made his eldest think.

Scotland huh? That wasn't an odd place, yet the man didn't look very Scottish, yet he could see a sort of Greek apparel. No matter the case, something seemed to be different about what the guy was doing. For an example, he was pulling out clock hands that somehow managed to find a certain time. Raising an eyebrow subconsciously, Andrew watched with a sort of curious and confused look about him. It was hard to guess what the man was doing, but it had to have been something to do with time. "So what's with the uh...clock hands there?" Andrew questioned, still looking at the clock hands.

Yet the man was probably getting irritated with Andrew, so in order to keep the peace, Andrew went back to his mug and toke another sip. Waiting for a response felt like hours at that. The only reason why Andrew was interested was because this guy could've been a Death Eater. Anyone could be, so that's why Andrew was so paranoid about it. If he was a Death Eater, it would be a lot worse than he thought. But for some odd reason, Andrew didn't think that this guy was a Death Eater. But rather something else. Maybe something worse.

The clock face was staring up at the ceiling and Ariel found himself wondering why he’d taken the thing in the first place. Perhaps because he had the opportunity to do so; because he could. No, that wasn’t it at all. Ariel had taken it because it was exactly what he’d needed. Fenrir wanted to play games because Ariel had killed one of his men. Fenrir had probably intended to send the clock face to make things easier but Zack was quick to spill the beans. He always cracked under the alpha’s pressure. So, to punish Ariel, Fenrir made it harder. It was a challenge. No one could say Fenrir didn’t know his own son. Ariel loved challenges. He loved everything about them; especially the reward. Ariel did wonder, though, what his reward for this would be.

Once again, the boy asked a question. Ariel looked up and frowned slightly. “They point out the coordinates of stars,” he answered after a moment of thought. “Currently,” he continued, “They’re pointing towards Sirius, the Dog Star within the constellation Orion. It may have something to do with the Full Moon just past, or perhaps the one approaching. No one can really read these things. It’s always the simplest of spells that create the biggest of problems wouldn’t you say? It’s a simple enough spell to turn a simple clock face into the state this is in now; its common magic. Yet, despite that, it’s not used. I assume that’s because most people don’t know what to use them for. I don’t suppose you’d know what Lupus Runes are?”

Andrew listened patiently as the strange man began to explain what the clock hands are for. He had learned about Siruis, brightest star in the night and occasionally referenced as a dog. But that was just simple astrology, some he learned of in elementary. Once the person mentioned Full Moon that started to put two and two together. Siruis was often referred to as some kind of ferousious dog that would smite it's enemies. And Lupus meant Wolf in some languages. So it wasn't hard to figure that this person had a facisnation with werewolves or was one. Probably just a fan of them.

"I'm not sure what they are used for," Andrew pointed out "but they have something to do with a dog or wolf?" Hopefully the person could begin to reveal some truth here. "Oh and I apologize for being rude, I'm Andrew J. Thompson." Maybe just the exchange of complimentaries could possibly reveal some sort of dark secret. It wasn't like Andrew of being snoopy...but it sure was better then treking back towards Hogwarts in the single digits.