Raven (black_raven) wrote in crsvr_fics, @ 2009-08-08 21:36:00 |
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~^ Chapter 3 ~^
As the sun peeked over the horizon, Harry Potter wandered aimlessly through the forest looking for a good spot to sleep. He was extremely tired after the many events of the day, or night, as it were. It didn't help that he now had a broken nose, swollen lip, cracked ribs, and a black eye, courtesy of the gang that he had seen David and his friends confront outside the diner earlier that night. It seemed that one of them had seen him go into the back room of the video store with Dwayne and so had automatically assumed he was a friend of the boys. They had cornered him on a dimly lit street and the only reason he had escaped was because a large group of bikers had happened past and spotted them beating him up.
Harry sighed not for the first time and cursed whatever demented gods that were messing around with his life. Wasn't it enough that he had fought in a war and killed the most feared wizard in over a century? Wasn't it enough that he had lost virtually all his friends to death or treachery? Now he found himself stuck in the past with no money, food, or shelter and no way of getting back to his own time. Could things possibly get any worse?
With that thought, there was a great clap of thunder and a brilliant flash of lightning and the heavens opened up to pour their cold and unforgiving rain down on the Earth. Harry looked up and cursed so violently he would have made a sailor blush. He had not noticed the sky grow dark with storm clouds, in fact, the sky had been cloudless only a few moments ago. This was the last straw for his already frazzled nerves. With a mighty cry of pure rage and anguish he threw himself at the nearest tree and began beating his fists against the rough bark, not even feeling as his knuckles split open and his blood dribbled down to join the torrent of rain battering the ground.
His rage spent, he allowed himself to slump to the muddy ground with the keening cry of a wounded animal and he simply sat, too exhausted to move out of the direct path of the rain or out of the mud that gathered underneath him. His knuckles stung and when he tried to make a fist pain exploded in one of his knuckles. There was at least one broken bone there. Staring at his bloody fists in defeat, Harry heaved a tired sigh and settled back against the rough bark of the tree he had previously been abusing. He stayed that way, shivering and in pain for the rest of the day, ignoring the pounding rain and his own discomfort. It wasn't until the sky faded to black that Harry came out of his stupor and his mind finally registered how cold he was and how much his body hurt.
With great difficulty he used the tree to lever himself up from the ground and he winced as his legs twinged and pins and needles gouged around inside them. It was ten minutes before he could walk and even then his legs felt jello-y, causing him to stumble as he walked. Harry wandered aimlessly, and a couple minutes later through blind luck he managed to find the path he could vaguely remember taking from the beach. He couldn't be entirely sure that he was even going in the right direction though as he hadn't been paying even the slightest bit of attention when he first entered the forest, having been too busy contemplating his meeting with the four boys, or more specifically their leader, David. The growing darkness didn't make it easy to navigate either, but at least the rain had finally let up.
It was nearly ten thirty by the time he finally stumbled onto the beach and could see the flashing lights from the rides of the boardwalk and hear the droning babble of excited crowds. He was unsure what he was going to do once he actually got onto the street, after all, he didn't want to start a panic because of his blood and mud stained appearance, but neither did he relish staying out in the woods where some wild animal would be drawn by the smell of fresh blood. He looked around absently and was about to start moving again towards the more crowded section of the beach when his gaze landed on the roiling mass of water that was the ocean. He stood there for several seconds, debating with himself before finally he sighed and hobbled his way down to the shore line.
Harry glanced down at the water lapping at his bare feet (having abandoned his sodden boots somewhere along the way) and briefly wondered just what had possessed him to make the decision that brought him to the water. He gazed down at the surf for a few moments before he bent down, sucked in a deep breath, and plunged his mangled hands into the waves. He immediately had to bite through is lip to keep from yelling out as the salt in the water got into his wounds and he suppressed the instinct to pull them out as the pain increased tenfold. Gritting his teeth he carefully cupped some water in one shaking hand and dribbled the water down his arm, scrubbing lightly to get rid of the dirt and blood. He repeated this process on his other arm and then on his face and neck, gritting his teeth as the water touched his wounds left over from the fight with the gang the previous night. Then he took off his shirt and rinsed it out in the surf, getting rid of the caked on grime.
He glanced down at the soaked shirt and sighed at his own stupidity, he didn't want to walk around soaking wet again. He tossed the offending article away, figuring he could probably just steal one later if the opportunity presented itself. When Harry was finally satisfied that he was as clean as he was going to get without hot water and soap, he turned and made his way through the crowded beach to the boardwalk. As he was going up the steps he saw a security guard, but it wasn't the same one as before so he didn't pay it any mind as he casually sauntered by. Now that he didn't have any immediately pressing things to worry about -other than food that is- he could finally look around and take in the sights of the new, well, old boardwalk.
If he had thought that the Santa Carla of his own time was wild, Santa Carla in the nineteen-eighties was like one big, never ending party. There were long queues of people waiting to get on the rides and even more people crowded through the street, creating a colorful mass of clothing and hair. When Harry tried peering over the heads of a couple in front of him he was sure that every color of the rainbow had broken up and nested itself in the hair of most of the people on the boardwalk. There were people with multi-colored mohawks and people with green hair and people with every style of hair imaginable with every color imaginable. Harry shook his head as he absentmindedly tugged at a bit of his own black locks. Why would anyone want to put chemicals in their hair or force said hair into such uncomfortable looking styles?
To his relief, Harry fit in with the crowd quite well despite his lack of a shirt and the fact that he had several bruises and cuts on his face and chest. Some people -mostly women, he was uncomfortable to note- even stared in appreciation at his lithe frame as he walked through the crowds. His black leather pants helped him blend in as well. Most people simply just figured him for some rebellious punk. As he walked past the vendors and stores he scoped out the best places to try and steal a shirt, uncomfortable with displaying his numerous scars so openly. He found one or two likely places but he saw that there were security guards near by and so put off getting a shirt until later.
He was sitting on a bench near the carousel when the loud roar of motorcycles caught his attention. He turned and looked over his shoulder as they got closer and he was slightly amused when some of the tourists squawked indignantly and jumped out of the way, while the locals simply stepped casually to the side, no doubt use to motorcycles and other such prohibited vehicles coming up onto the boardwalk. Harry was about to turn back around when he caught sight of who were on the bikes. Three familiar blondes and a brunette swung their legs over the sides of their bikes and dismounted as they lightly chatted and joked with each other.
Normally Harry would have gone over and said hello, after all they had saved him from going to jail. However when his eyes locked on David he felt his insides knot up and he became unexplainably self conscious about his scars, his wounds, how short he was compared to other men, and the shape of his nose. He couldn't understand why he was so self conscious around the other boy, after all, he had only just met him and knew nothing about him, so why was he reacting this way? Embarrassed with his responses, Harry got to his feet and was about to high tail it in the opposite direction when Paul spotted him.
"Hey, Fenrir! Over here dude!" Harry stopped in his tracks and turned, forcing a smile to his lips as he made his way over to them. Marko greeted him just as enthusiastically as Paul had, but he only received brief nods from David and Dwayne who were more interested in looking at the bruises on his chest.
"What happened to you?" Marko inquired, catching sight of what his two friends were looking at. Harry shuffled his feet anxiously and dropped his eyes to rest shyly on the ground, uncomfortable with the attention.
"Oh, it's nothing. I just got into a small fight after I left the store last night. It's no big deal, just a group of locals wanting to harass a tourist."
"That isn't nothing! You look like death warmed over!"
"And your hands look like they were put through a meat grinder." This came from Dwayne and brought the others' attention to his hands. He tried hiding them behind his back but David caught a hold of one of his wrists and held it up so he could examine the mutilated appendage. When the others caught sight of them they gasped and crowded closer. Harry bit back a protest as David dipped his nose forward slightly and sniffed at the young wizard.
"You reek of salt. Tell us what happened and we might help you."
There was a brief pause as Harry weighed the pros and cons of allowing them to help him. On one hand, it would make it easier on him than trying to get into a hospital or doctors office without money or identification; but on the other hand, he knew nothing about these boys, for all he knew they could be an American branch of Death Eaters or something similar. And there was the feeling he got around them that he had noticed when he first met them in the back of the video store. He had noticed a similar feel around Remus when the full moon was close, but he knew they weren't werewolves as it had been a full moon the previous night, so either they weren't human or he was paranoid. The latter seemed most likely.
But what should he do? Eventually if left untreated then his open wounds would become infected and he would have to go to a hospital anyway. He supposed that if he went with them and they wound up being psycho killers or something then he could tap into his accidental magic to kill them, though he didn't like doing that since it exhausted him too much to use magic without a wand, especially destructive magic. He glanced around at them but saw only concern in their eyes as they gazed back at him, though a slight shadow in David's eyes told Harry that the leader had an ulterior motive for offering to help him. The question was, what was it?
Finally Harry sighed and nodded his acceptance. David smirked with satisfaction as the other three clambered on to their bikes. He was thankfully not riding with David, which was a good thing because he didn't want his body embarrassing him while he was pressed up against the handsome teen. Instead he rode with Dwayne with whom he felt much more at ease around. They revved the engines and David motioned with his arm for the others to follow him as he took off down the board walk and down the stairs to the beach, sending pedestrians fleeing from their path. Harry tightened his arms instinctively around Dwayne's waist as they tore down the steps and he heard the dark boy chuckle slightly before joining his friends as they howled and yelled in exhilaration. Harry couldn't help joining in, taken by the show of freedom that the boys displayed as they tore down the beach towards the woods that Harry had been in before.
It was only after they were in the woods that it occurred to Harry to ask where they were going. He leaned forward and yelled to Dwayne over the roar of the bikes and the howling of the wind.
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see!"
That was his only answer but he let it go as he lost himself in the thrill of riding. All too soon the trees began thinning out and the boys slowed down until they came to a stop several feet from the edge of a cliff. The crashing of the waves could be heard from below and Harry could see the top of a lighthouse from where he stood waiting for the boys as they walked their bikes over and hid them from sight behind a boulder. When they came back they motioned for Harry to follow them over to the cliff. He hesitated at first but when he caught sight of where they were going he forced himself to relax, though he kept his guard up.
They led him up a set of rickety old wooden steps and under a sign that Harry couldn't make out in the dark, then down a long stair that went straight to the bottom of the cliff. Harry ignored the sea spray that made his skin and pants damp and instead focused on where he was walking, the dim light of the moon blocked out by the shadow of the cliff. He could see large shapes near the cliff face but he couldn't make out what they were as David led them forward. Marko helped Harry over the uneven rocks and debris that littered the ground, Harry had to wonder how the others could see their way around. Dwayne warned him about an upcoming fence and helped him duck through the broken planks, once through they stopped and waited while Paul and Marko lit a torch each.
They were in the entrance of a cave, looking down on a large expanse of darkness that the two torches could not penetrate alone. Marko and Dwayne detached themselves from the group, Dwayne snatching the torch from Paul on the way by, and walked down the make-shift steps carved out of the wall below the exit from many years of use. The two boys made a circuit around the cavern (as that is what the room was) and lit metal barrels set at random around the room.
Now that Harry could see he looked around with great interest. Much of the walls were covered in graffiti and posters, central among which was a huge black and white poster of who he identified as Jim Morrison, the muggle rock singer. Central in the room was a large fountain, empty aside from a broken chandelier resting in a the center of it. There were dusty couches and chairs and other random furniture scattered around, there was even a wheel chair in the middle of a group of couches and chairs that he figured must serve as the group's main lounging place. Off to the side the wall dipped into a bowl which was curtained off, creating a make-shift room. He could see through a gap in the dusty drapes that the area held two beds and a dresser, all dusty of course. David interrupted Harry's observations by stepping up next to the wizard.
"Welcome to our humble abode. This use to be the hottest resort in Santa Carla back in the early nineteen hundreds, the only problem was that it was built right on the fault. When the big one hit San Frencisco in 1906, the entire place took a header right into the crack. Now it's ours."
Harry was impressed, and not a little envious as he continued to observe the place from his elevated position. It was obvious that these guys took much pride in this place, it was also obvious that they were well and truly free, a concept that Harry had only just recently discovered after his defeat of Voldemort and the spat with Dumbledore that freed him from the old man's control.
He was broken from his musings by David nudging him down to join the others. Marko sat on a slab of rock off to the side petting a pigeon while Paul poked around a box of old pizza, hoping to salvage a couple pieces. Dwayne had disappeared down a side corridor only to return a few minutes later carrying a small dusty old box. The boy motioned him over to the fountain and then pushed him to sit on the rim. When Dwayne opened the box Harry saw that it was full of dusty first aid supplies. He was slightly apprehensive when Dwayne started to bring his hand up to his face but the dark haired boy seemed to sense his discomfort and explained.
"I need to set your nose or it'll heal crooked."
It didn't do much to alleviate Harry of his apprehension, but he forced himself to relax as Dwayne once more reached towards his face. The brunette grasped the wizard's nose firmly and with a muted snap, cracked it back into place. Harry bit his lip to keep from crying out as blood began gushing from his now unblocked nasal passage. Dwayne gave him a piece of cloth to use to help stem the flow and then reached into the box and brought out an unmarked jar and a roll of bandages. The jar turned out to hold a green colored salve, which the dark teen explained would help to heal his cuts and bruises.
David casually sat down next to Harry on the rim of the fountain and watched as Dwayne carefully bandaged his hands. There was several minutes of strained silence which was only broken by Paul as he paced back and forth trying to get rid of nervous energy, and by Dwayne as he stood up and placed the unused bandages back in the box. Finally David broke the silence.
"Now, you wanna tell me what happened?"
"Not particularly, no."
The look David shot him wasn't as scary as what Snape's glares were, but it was enough to cause his insides to jolt with something that Harry stubbornly told himself was simply from lack of food. Harry peeked at the blonde boy from under his hair and sighed when he saw that the he would not let him get away without an explanation.
"I got in a fight with a tree."
"Apparently the tree won."
"Apparently."
They all fell into an uncomfortable silence.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Later, as the boys readied for bed Paul and Marko approched David with the question burning on their minds.
"So David, why are we helpin' him?"
"Yeah, I though you said he was a threat?"
"Potential threat. And that's the beauty of it." David smirked at them. "We keep him here, we can keep a closer eye on him, and if he turns out to be a danger to us then it will be easier to dispose of him since he's right here, rather than having to try and track him down in the town."
Marko tilted his head and pressed his leader further.
"But what happens when he wants to leave? We can't keep him here against his will. If we do that then we may as well just kill him now and save ourselves the trouble."
David frowned, and it was obvious to the three that he had not planned that far ahead. Dwayne frowned at David but said nothing of any of his thoughts. Paul on the other hand had not problem with opening his mouth and spewing out the first thing to enter his mind.
"Jeeze David, that's kinda cold, man. How-"
He spotted the frigid glare being directed at him and he quickly, and wisely, closed his mouth and look down at the ground. David snorted lightly in contempt before sighing and shaking his head.
"Much as I hate to admit it, I wasn't thinking. All I was worried about was what type of threat he could pose to us and not about what would actually happen once we brought him here. He just feels strange. I don't know, kind of like a night creature, almost like a cross between a werewolf and that stray ghoul we ran into last year, but not quite...."
He trailed off in thought and the others nodded their heads in agreement; they had all felt -and smelled- that Fenrir wasn't quite a a regular human, and David's comment about Max's reaction to the young man the previous night came to mind, reminding them that the Head Vampire must have known something about Fenrir's oddities as well. The silence stretched on for several minutes before Dwayne finally spoke up.
"I think we should just ask him."
The others stared at him incredulously, but the dark vampire did not care to elaborate further on his comment. Instead he simply blinked and stared blankly back at them. Finally David shook his head.
"I would rather not alert him to the fact that we know about him not being normal. If and when he asks to leave, we'll just find some way to convince him to stay, and if he still insists on leaving, we'll at least have spent so much time around him that it will be easy to track him. Or if worst comes to worst, we can make him drink the wine, tie him to us so he can't leave, but we'll only use that if we absolutely have to; I don't relish the idea of spending any amount of time with an unwilling sibling who would sooner rather kill us all in our sleep than look at us."
The others didn't like that last idea any more than David did, but they made sounds of agreement anyway, all of them too tired to argue as they felt that the sun was mere moments from breaking the horizon. Marko was the first on to fly up and grab a hold of the bar, followed by Dwayne and Paul who were playfully batting at each other as they situated themselves in their usual places. David was last, taking a few extra minutes to walk back out to the entrance to observe their new resident.
Fenrir was sound asleep curled up on the floor by the biggest bed with his back pressed to the wall, facing the entrance to the little nook, hands firmly clutching a small dagger. The vampire recognized the posture as that of someone use to being shocked awake, or beaten awake. His gaze softened minimally and he took a few steps forward with the intention of putting the boy on the bed, but the second he got within five feet of him the boy tensed up and David could sense that he was starting to wake. The blonde sighed quietly and backed away, noting that tenseness in the other boy lessened with every step away he took. As he walked back to the sleeping chamber his mind wandered back to another teen he had met once long ago who had acted in a similar manner as Fenrir during his first few weeks in the caves.
His cobalt gaze wandered up and met Dwayne's curious brown ones. Reading the question on his friend's face he shook his head in the negative. Dwayne's up-side-down face morphed into an ugly frown but the brunette remained silent as David slipped off his boots and flew up to join his brothers. As the first rays of dawn creeped over the horizon and the tug of sleep enticed him, David's last thoughts were of a familiar brown haired, brown eyed boy crouching on the floor in between the cots in a small cave, a small, crude knife clutched to his chest and numerous scars marring his bare torso.