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a-usernamelol · 2 months ago

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Summary:

Allan Waite, a strange student from Hogwarts, finds a group of poachers trying to break in a vault and save the rest of their company from certain death. Despite his better judgment, he decides to help.

Word Count For The Nerds: 5826 words Page Count For The Nerds: 13 Pages

The sun pounded down forcefully on the dirt and grass, which only doubled the bombardment on Allan’s skin, yet years of outdoor attention and activity had made him sturdier to the sun’s constant war, but years of hoarding clothes on his person had also kept all but his face pale. He was used to it, however, and pushed forward through the blur of heat of the ground, towards some unseen goal he wasn’t even entirely sure about himself.

Allan kept walking forward in the grassy hills that provided little cover, passing along a cliffside edge that threatened to toss him over with one step to the right. Down there, he could see a poacher camp, set right outside a cave. Cages were stacked in rows, and in one lay the key to the entrance of the cave, a large cube with a symbol on it. They seemingly had figured out it had to do with the cave in some way- or it wouldn’t have been so heavily protected. He could see the water from here- just a ways away, past the camp which was set on another cliff. Then again, this was the coast- you could see water nearly everywhere.

He clicked his tongue to himself, making his way to his current destination- a nearby cemetery that had long since been abandoned over the course of decades, turning and walking towards a bridge built across the river he had been following for the past day to find his way. The heels of his boots met stone, found grip, and held weight with each step forward. Thankfully the bridge was still sturdy, and he soaked in the view once more, glancing over the edge towards his right once again, watching the glittering water sparkle like a thousand gemstones in the setting sun, spreading the fire towards the beaches which served as the only divider between the two. A path slowly crept away from the sands, and up towards the bridge, dividing the cliff into two.

Everything is as it should be. He thought, satisfied with the rare quiet- too quiet, really, with a poacher camp nearby. Sure enough, his quiet was disturbed as he noticed a pair of legs sticking out from behind his view of the rocks. He moved just enough to see the full form and frowned when he recognized the mask on the face of the body.

A dead poacher? That seemed odd to him- poachers, as with any group, at least to some extent, defended each other. It was rare to see one alone- let alone dead. Creeping to the side a bit more to see past the rocks, he noticed what appeared to be another corpse- although it was hard to tell, since it was tucked closer to the cliff he had just walked away from, the shadows leaving it obscure to his vision. Curious, he deviated from his mission, and quickly jogged across the bridge, back the way he came.

He found a spot in the rocks where he could clearly see the bodies, and soon realized there was still more he had missed due to his position before. There were, in total, four poachers, two of which were dead, both laying in a similar fashion, near what looked like white symbols Allan could not quite make out, but which looked distinctly familiar. Another sat with his legs pulled up against his chest, tucked into the cliff in a way Allan could never have seen him from his position before even if he tried. He looked like he was weeping behind the mask, shivering and hugging himself, muttering half-incoherent thoughts and words.

The last poacher was groaning loudly in pain, bashing his shoulder into a metal gate tucked into the cliff, leading to a cave. He would walk a few paces back, run forward, and slam his whole body weight into the door, before doing it again after each inevitable failure.

Allan crouched down to watch them, curiosity eating at his heart the more he watched their clearly desperate efforts. They weren’t paying attention to their surroundings, clearly, since neither of them seemed to notice him.

“I can’t hear their screams anymore.” The poacher tucked against the cliff sniffled out, saying the first genuinely understandable thing yet. The other turned and looked at him, frowning and pausing his assault on the door, before letting out a loud, exhausted sigh and slamming his shoulder into the metal again, the bars cutting into his shirt and skin, bruising him badly enough he bled under the shirt, causing it to stick and itch. He paused again to move his shirt so that it no longer itched, and Allan bit the inside of his lip.

On one hand, poachers hunted and killed defenseless beasts. On the other, these poachers in particular were clearly desperate, and it looked like the rest of their party had been trapped in the cave. Although Allan didn’t want to help them, knowing how they had hurt others while working under Rookwood, he also felt terribly sorry for them- as they clearly were trying to rescue their team- assuming there was any team left to save.

Allan got up and climbed down the cliff, jumping down and catching himself, before hopping down again onto the dirt path with a soft thump. The frightened poacher squealed in terror when he saw him and jumped up, his wand immediately at the ready. This alerted his friend mid-slam, and he too twisted around to face him, hissing a threat.

“You! You’re that damned student! You have a lot of nerve showing your face around here.” He spat. Allan didn’t flinch, only shrugged and raised his hands in hopes to show he meant no harm.

“I’m not sure you’re in a position to say that, with what looks like a good chunk of your crew dead or missing in action.” Allan then nodded to the poacher who had yelped, and noticing how badly he was shaking, he gave a friendly smile. “Sorry for the scare.”

The poacher shivered and backed up against the wall, leaving his more sound comrade to step forward, unconvinced of Allan’s attempts at peace.

“What do you want, boy?” He growled through gritted teeth, which Allan could hear through his mask.

“I want to strike a deal. You want to go find your companions. I want to see what’s in that cave. I can unlock the door, and we can split the profits. I don’t want to fight you- put the wand away, please.” Allan explained slowly, emphasizing his words so it hopefully registered.

The poachers glanced at each other, seemingly worried for another potential bloodbath. Eventually, the both yielded, and slowly put their wands away, still studying Allan’s every move warily. Allan smiled and lowered his hands, creeping forward and fixing his gloves. He took a cocky bow, trusting them to not attack him for the few seconds he wasn’t looking at them, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Thank you kindly. I think we should get acquainted. Allan. Allan Waite. You two?” Allan raised his arms to gesture to the poachers. The terrified one shivered and remained silent, still not trusting him enough to speak. The other, however, shifted awkwardly from one foot to another, and huffed in irritation, clearly not thrilled at being on friendly terms with their number one enemy. Still, he adjusted his shoulder blades and stood up straight.

“Vincent, if you must know.” He declared proudly, “You’re not going to attack us, then?”

“Don’t be silly. You’re helpless. I have class. I want to help you.” Allan shook his head, putting his hands in his coat pockets and blowing a lock of magenta hair out of his eyes. Vincent snorted, and although Allan couldn’t tell, he could have sworn the poacher rolled his eyes.

“Well I’m so very glad that we’re so helpless that the great Purger of Dark Wizards feels bad for us.” Vincent crossed his arms, the defensive gesture signaling to Allan that he did not trust him, and rightfully so, in Allan’s eyes. The other poacher sunk back into his crying position and began to sob. Both Allan and Vincent turned towards him and Allan frowned, furrowing his brows in genuine sympathy. He took his wand out of its sheath and slowly walked over to the gate, Vincent watching him the entire way, wary of his every move.

“What are you doing?!” He hissed the second he saw the wand, just a little bit of fear creeping up into his voice. Allan chuckled at his reaction.

“Unlocking the door, you fool. Do you want to find your friends or not?” Allan replied, snapping in a way that left little room for argument as he cast Alohomora on the lock. He walked right by a gawking Vincent, who huffed and adjusted his cat skull mask as the door swung open with an agonizingly slow creak. Allan turned to look back at the frightened poacher and smiled.

“Stay out here and guard the entrance. If anyone but us comes up, close the door immediately.” Allan ordered. The man nodded, still visibly shivering like he was experiencing his own personal earthquake. Satisfied with the nod for an answer, Allan turned to look down into the dark pit of a hallway, lit only by a few stray torches. Vincent leaned in a little next to him, looking between Allan and the hallway.

“…It’s open.” He said after a moment, urging Allan to move already. Allan gawked himself, and rolled his eyes.

“Well- Yes I KNOW that thank you.” He started walking forward and into the stone halls. It was clearly man made- more likely one of the many treasure vaults like around the Highlands. Still, he crept down onto the rubble, quietly trying to avoid making any noise by avoiding the pebbles- An effort immediately foiled by Vincent who tripped on a stone slab, a loud Clunk ringing through the hallway. Allan winced and froze. He didn’t want to disturb whatever lay in here- lest it decided to disturb them. He looked back at Vincent with a scowl, who gave a tiny, albeit forced, smile.

“Any idea what happened here?” Allan whispered. Vincent shook his head.

“The gate locked behind them- all we heard were the shouts of a scuffle.” Vincent shifted away from the slab, careful not to touch anything else. Allan turned back around to keep moving.

“What happened to the men outside then?” Allan hissed quietly as he put his hand on the wall, feeling its rough texture. A nearby torch, sensing movement, lit itself. Allan squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sudden light. He was surprised any torches down here still worked- although he supposed it could be magic.

“Inferi out front. Lot of ‘em. Stupidly strong for a shambling mass of bones.” Vincent replied. Allan raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“…Inferi. Inferi took out three poachers? And then what? Left?” Allan replied, clearly dumbfounded by how three fully grown adults couldn’t just Confringo a bunch of Inferi. It seemed to be a poacher’s favorite spell. Vincent shrugged.

“I don’t know… They were stronger. Something was wrong. They were like- stone statues- and if you managed to get a crack open- they glowed red.”

Allan frowned at Vincent’s description. It sounded oddly similar to a particular pyramid-shaped object he knew of. Stone that glows red. Hm.

“Any chance they attacked at night and crumbled to ash once the sun rose…?” Allan offered, throwing it out there that he might know what those things were. Or are- if there were any more.

Vincent stopped and gawked at Allan, who continued forward. He scrunched his eyebrows and blinked, putting one hand against a stone wall as if in thought.

“How- how do you know that?” He wondered aloud, Allan just shrugged and gestured for Vincent to come along. It would be too much a hassle to explain. To a poacher no less. He didn’t exactly “help” poachers and Ashwinders often. This one just got lucky that he was curious.

The hallway opened, each wall suddenly swallowed by a larger, darker room. Allan had to blink a couple of times for his eyes to adjust- which was promptly ruined by Vincent casting Lumos. Allan sighed as he was blinded and he reached over to his left and to bat at Vincent’s wand. Allan’s hand stopped short however as the rough shapes he had started to see in the dark suddenly became clear, and he could see the limp, lifeless forms of several poachers, strewn across the floor like ragdolls with broken or even crushed limbs. He cringed enough his left arm returned to his side. He doubted any of them had very painless deaths.

That would explain the screaming dying out… He frowned. At LEAST the Killing Curse is painless. Whatever was in here certainly didn’t give any of them that mercy. Allan felt a little drool well up in his mouth and his hand almost instinctively inch closer to his wand. The pain they must have gone through…

Allan slammed his right hand into his coat pocket and looked at Vincent who was staring in horror, even under the mask the wide eyes were visible, glittering from the light of his wand. Allan reached out again, but hesitated and sighed.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he managed to squeak out. He was one to talk, so he knew better to say more when he had a nasty reputation for taking out poachers in the Forest. Vincent nodded and approached one of the bodies, leaning down a bit to look at it and instantly recoiling at the smell of blood.

“…It’s like. It’s like the corpse of a bird that got under a carriage’s wheel.” He concluded. But human. Allan didn’t need Vincent to say it to know what he meant.

Allan wandered into the room as well, looking at the roots coming out of the ground from trees that must be above them. He squatted down to inspect them. The soil was soft and crumbled easily to the touch. It was fresh.

“Vincent. Stay away from the dirt. And the roots.” Allan ordered with an air of urgency. Vincent seemed to clock it was important and frowned, looking over.

“Why?” An understandable query.

“I dunno. Hunch.” Allan frowned, standing up and looking around. “I just don’t like it.”

Vincent raised a suspicious eyebrow, the mask shifting up slightly on his face, conveying to Allan his doubt. Then again, Allan didn’t need to see his face to know he probably didn’t trust him.

“…Right.” Vincent turned to move further into the room, spotting a wall to the left with loose looking bricks. Vincent wandered over, intrigued. As he did, the bricks, enchanted as they were, shot themselves back and reformed the wall, opening into a new, smaller room. Vincent jumped and scurried back in shock, unintentionally landing his heel in the crook between the floor and the root of a plant, his own momentum forcing him backward, and he fell to the ground, snapping the root with a loud “Ack!”.

Allan immediately turned around, worried as to the condition of his companion, but failed to warn the man, as a skinny, stone hand shot out of the loose dirt and grabbed his arm with painful force. Vincent, with his arm now pulled against the ground, gasped and tried to pull away to no avail.

Allan took a step forward to help Vincent, paused as he listened to the groans of other undead assailants as they pulled their bodies out of the ground. A quick glance around confirmed the worst of his fears, as at least four other ”inferi” surrounded them from all around the room. Allan realized quickly he had little time before they overwhelmed him, and he rushed over to Vincent.

Vincent gasped at the stone arm, which now slowly revealed a whole head and body. Vincent could see the “skin” of the creature wasn’t skin- but some sort of stone cracked and groaned with every swift movement. It seemed impossible to break from. It didn’t help that Allan himself looked panicked- although Vincent gathered that made sense. He was just a kid. Even if he seemed to know what was going on- he was still JUST a kid.

“Lumos!” Allan shouted, his wand giving light. He shoved it in the inferi’s face, which seemed to make it back away with a screech of agony. Vincent broke his hand away and scrambled up. The creature was completely still now that it was in the light- like some sort of… Undead statue? Now was not the time for questions.

“That’s what was outside! Merlin’s bloody cock-“ Vincent gasped as he scrambled away, taking the hint to grab his own wand and cast Lumos.

“Language.” Allan grumbled in Vincent’s vague direction, and turned around, waving the light in the direction of the other “inferi”. His aggressive motion made them swerve away the second the light moved away from them, but his wand gave a strained flicker. It was like they themselves were soaking up the light, and perhaps the very magic of his wand.

“Alright, wiseass. How do we kill ‘em? Fire?” Vincent hissed back, waving his wand in the direction “Inferi” that had attacked him moments earlier.

“They’re stone. You can’t kill stone- let alone what’s already dead.” Allan frowned and looked back into the hallway, where the torch was still flickering with fire. He glanced at his wand, which was starting to flicker more as its unnatural light was drained- presumably by the creatures. With every spare second the light was out, they crept closer to Allan.

He shoved his wand in his pocket and grabbed the stone arm of one of the monsters, vaulting himself over it to get out in front of them. Vincent let out a shocked gasp as Allan sprinted to the fire, only to be grabbed a moment too soon by the coat, Allan turned around and sucked in his breath. The whole room looked like a void- with the exception of Vincent’s wand. A single arm attached to a stone body reached out, gripping onto Allan’s coat.

Allan looked at Vincent, whose wand flickered slightly, causing the poacher to smack his hand in confusion. With little more consideration, Allan ripped his coat out of the grip of his assailant. He turned around with a frustrated hiss.

“Confringo!” A sizzling, swirling giant spark of fire leapt from his wand, hitting the “inferi” that had attacked him in the face. It froze, like stone, staring at him with what was left of cold, broken eyes. He didn’t have a second to think as the flame died out, and his wand sparked, indicating to him that he wasn’t getting anything out of it with these creatures around. Vincent frowned as his own wand flickered.

“Alright, smartshoes. What now? I can see those gears turning.”

Allan stared at Vincent for a moment before something clicked, and rammed himself into the nearest “Inferi” and knocked it over. Vincent gawked.

“Are you INSANE? Do you have a DEATH WISH?” He hissed through his teeth as Allan sprinted out of the room back into the hallway.

“Shut it, Dad.” He grumbled sarcastically as he grabbed the torch from the wall. Vincent gasped and sprinted forward, his wand going out in the same breath. Instantly, “Inferi” were on top of him with the speed of a bullet, yanking him back away from the hallway. He shouted out as he was pulled to the floor like he was nothing more than a ragdoll.

Allan stopped on his tracks as he watched Vincent get pulled into the darkness of the room. He bit his tongue to keep himself from uttering several unholy words.

He shoved the torch in the face of the first “Inferi” he could see in the dark, which let out a horrible screech of pain, as its stone skin cracked and shattered as easily as sugar glass. With one last effort, in spite of its pain, it reached its crumbling hand out and tugged on Allan’s coat, before falling to the ground in a million pieces. Allan fixed his coat and walked into the room, filling it with the natural light of the fire.

A loud roar of howls of pain pierced Allan’s ears like a spear. Each creature still as stone, but yet crumbled to the ground in an uproar of sheer agony, reaching up as they did. Vincent gawked as the magic of his wand returned to him, the light emitting from its point, and he looked at Allan in understandable confusion and relief.

“…What…?” He gasped.

“Natural light. Lethal to them.” Allan explained carefully, “That was the difference. They’re afraid of light. Fire is natural light. Unnatural things are afraid of nature because it always wins. Like… vines overtaking a brick wall.”

Vincent raised an eyebrow. He looked the kid up and down a bit, confused by how this teenager made such a conclusion like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But- the torch was enchanted. It came on on its own.”

Allan shook his head and started walking forward, looking around the room with the flame and wandering over to the wall that had moved just before the attack. “The stick would have been enchanted to LIGHT itself. The fire wouldn’t have been.”

He turned to look at Vincent, checking to see if he was following mentally.

“Those things… They aren’t Inferi. They’re… like… Husks. Inferi have a little intelligence enough to talk and move. Those things? No. They just attack anything alive that comes near, like a golem.” Vincent said in a half panicked daze as he scrambled to his feet, dusting off the shards of stone. He felt vomit rise up in his throat when he realized that “stone” was now millions of pieces of dead bodies.

Allan laughed, and shook his head. “Oh no no no. They’re intelligent all right. Did you think it’s a spell that they only moved in the dark? No no, it’s a HUNTING tactic.” Allan smirked to himself as Vincent looked at him with horror.

“You mean… Those things… Could have… moved at any moment?” Vincent looked at the dust and shards on the ground and backed up slightly, immediately stumbling over a dead comrade, now coated in dust. He cursed loudly and looked at Allan with a new fire in his eyes, suddenly raising his wand in the boy’s face.

“Who ARE you?!” Vincent hissed angrily, as if all this was Allan’s fault.

Allan narrowed his eyes and frowned, tilting his head.

“Allan Waite. Feel free to tell your superiors that I saved your life. See how happy they’ll be then.” Allan walked towards the center of the room with a coy smirk.

“We had a deal.” Allan tutted as he walked. Vincent’s hand quivered as he held up the wand, realizing that Allan was entirely unafraid- perhaps amused- about his threats. He pressed his lips together and put his wand in his pocket.

“You’re a strange kid.” He decided aloud, causing Allan to snicker profusely. Allan wandered over to where Vincent first fell.

“You’re clumsy.” He pointed out. Vincent frowned as Allan pointed out the very obvious fact. Allan moved silent as the dead of night, so of course Vincent was clumsy by his standards.

“…Hm.” Vincent shook his head, not gracing the kid with an answer. He walked over, following Allan as he started to walk closer, the bricks moving and shifting, revealing a small closet-sized room, as dilapidated as the rest of the place. Inside was a small chest, about as big as a large suitcase. Allan narrowed his eyes and looked back at Vincent, putting a foot on the top of the chest before smirking.

“THIS is what you fell over?” Allan chuckled. Vincent rolled his eyes at Allan’s mockery. Allan shook his head and took his foot off the chest, squatting down on the floor, and started opening it. Vincent grabbed Allan and pulled him away from it, the lid snapping shut with a loud clank.

“What if it’s booby-trapped?” Vincent hissed. Allan rolled his eyes and brushed off his shoulders.

“Oh please. I doubt anyone who built this expected ANYONE to get past those creepy crawlies. Most don’t even know reinforced Inferi exist, let ALONE how to stop them.” Allan leaned down and lifted the chest lid anyway, causing Vincent to step back as if something would jump out.

Allan snickered as Vincent reacted, and looked down to spy their fortune. Inside was nothing but a light purple scarf, eaten partially by moths and maggots. Allan scrunched up his nose, picking up the scarf and holding it away from him like it was diseased. “...Well. This will give you lice and other pests for sure…” He said, Vincent, replying with a face similar to Allan’s own.

“...Lovely. All this, for virtually nothing. For Merlin’s sake, we can’t even split it!” Vincent huffed, before being met with the scarf being tossed at his chest. Instinctually, he reached up to catch it, immediately fumbling and nearly dropping it. “Nah. You can keep it. I’ve seen what I wanted to see. At least you’ll have something to show for your efforts.” Allan shrugged and turned to walk back into the room and from there the hallway. Vincent turned the cloth over in his hands and huffed before it registered that Allan was walking away and he whipped around to follow him, scampering behind as they crawled back into the light. “Now hold on just a minute! What am I going to tell my superiors? What am I gonna tell others?” Vincent declared worriedly as he scrambled back to Allan’s side. Allan just shrugged and tilted his head.

“What do you WANT to say?” Allan countered, turning around and raising his eyebrows curiously. There was, as there had always been, a glitter- or perhaps a shine, in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

Vincent sighed and leaned back against a nearby wall. He took a moment to stare at the overgrown ceiling, before frowning and looking over at Allan.

“We should get out of this place.” He observed, not wanting to get attacked by more stone monstrosities. Allan chuckled and nodded, clapping Vincent on the shoulder as he walked by.

“Fair enough.” Allan walked down the thin hall and put the torch back on its mount, waving Vincent over. Vincent didn’t hesitate to scurry out of the dark towards Allan, clambering through the loose rubble on the ground to get away from the pit of darkness. Once they got to the gate, Vincent shoved past Allan to scramble out, running over to his partner.

Allan frowned, looking at the partner at hand, who had sat with his legs pulled against his chest against the same cliff face the vault had been carved into. He walked over and dug through his coat pockets, which were endless by design, to pull out a worn glass bottle that had a piece of cork shoved in the top to keep the precious liquid in. He held it out to the poacher gingerly.

“Hey. Drink this. No one thinks straight when dehydrated.” Allan furrowed his brows and pressed his lips together. Despite the terrified man being his enemy, he still felt… Well. Pity. They were only following orders after all, that didn’t make them the villains, just the tools.

The frightened man snatched up the bottle, practically drinking the whole thing in one shot, before coughing.

“Water.” He observed roughly. Vincent seemed to raise an eyebrow at this, frowning.

“Are you…” Vincent trailed off a bit, thinking before speaking. “Are you alright?” Vincent glanced at Allan for a moment, while the poacher nodded slightly, coughing again. Allan stood up, so Vincent followed. He looked at the curled up comrade with clear worry, before opening his mouth to speak to Allan, only to be cut off.

“Get that man a good meal and some safety. No one comes out the survivor of a slaughter, a survivor of mind. Not completely. Give him some time, and some compassion. You both just watched your whole team die in front of you.” Allan gestured to the man and then Vincent, giving a soft, kind smile.

“That goes for you too.” Vincent gawked at Allan’s words and then back, before taking off his mask for air, sighing like a seal coming up for air.

“I’ll take him back. To camp, I mean. Make sure he’s treated right. I’ll have a report to get to.” Vincent gritted his teeth. The last thing he wanted to do was face his section’s leader. Allan clicked his tongue idly.

“Best get to it then, bud.” Allan did a sort of childish half salute and turned to walk away, but Vincent grabbed him by the shoulder with a calloused hand. Allan flinched from the grip.

“What about you? Where will you go?” Vincent bit the inside of his lip, pausing for his own thoughts again, as seemed to be a habit of his, before frowning.

“Do you have… Anywhere to go?” Vincent finished, as if a creeping hunch had told him. Allan frowned. Maybe his demeanor had given it away. Allan had to pause and think for himself, unsure if he should give a poacher his location.

“I go wherever the birds go.” Allan decided finally, pulling out of the grip of the older man. The look on Vincent’s face gave away that his answer was unsatisfactory for the poacher, but he wisely kept his mouth shut and turned back to his partner, helping him up. Vincent shot Allan one last look of concern, before wandering up the hill between the nearby cliffs.

Allan watched them go with interest, letting them leave his sight before turning away himself. Vincent helped hold up his comrade the entire way up, knowing that he wasn’t in the right state of mind to lead himself back in one piece.

Vincent practically had to pull the other man uphill by his shoulders, slowly making their way to their camp of origin to rest. By now, the sun was dipping below the horizon and it would be dusk by the time they would even see the lights. Vincent sighed gratefully when the orange stars popped out over the ground to greet them. Then, he noticed a silhouette he recognized, a woman in a coat and a tophat and let out a groan while he was still out of earshot.

When the two men got close enough to see her better, he recognized the red hue of the coat and hat, as if they matched the fiery red of her constant anger. He tried to smile, but he was pretty sure his distaste snuck its way through his muscles to give his true thoughts away.

“Evening, Alicia.” He brought them both up to her and she scowled.

“Where’s the rest of your men?” She flatly replied, not even bothering to ask what happened to his companion.

“They're dead. Inferi caught us off guard.” Alicia looked like she was going to lay into him so he quickly cut her off.

“With all due respect, this man needs medical attention, stat.” Vincent gestured to the man beside him who seemed to choke on air and cough. Alicia raised an eyebrow and frowned, as she seemed to do constantly, and nodded, she turned to walk towards the fire to address a woman eating there.

“Get Marco. We have a man down.” Alicia said with just enough priority to get the poacher to drop her food and scramble up, rushing off into a tent, only to come back with another man only a few minutes later to take the weight off Vincent’s shoulder.

He watched them all go, and rolled his shoulder where the other poacher had been holding onto him. He felt a pop and he grumbled in displeasure. Alicia seemed to glare at him at the mere sound, like a hawk on its prey, and he forced a smile, although still a little sore.

“Report.” She roughly growled, her eyes burning through him for answers. Vincent sighed.

“What do you want me to say? We were ambushed by some sort of magically reinforced Inferi. Everyone but me and him perished. All we found in that damn vault was a moth eaten scarf.” Vincent signed and held up the scarf, pulling it out of his pants pocket and sighing

Alicia frowned and narrowed her eyes, as if she didn’t believe him. She probably didn’t, and Vincent knew that.

“And how did you two escape unscathed?”

Vincent frowned and looked away from her prying eyes, glancing down the hill. He relaxed his shoulders as he basked in the view of the moonlite grass, swaying in the breeze like soft water. He saw something move and squinted, focusing his gaze under a tree where a nearly imperceptible shadow stood, so still it took him a second to register it was a person watching them from afar.

Allan. It had to be. He had to have followed them. But how? Vincent was trained to notice when people were following him, and the only things he had noticed on their journey was the spiders and occasional mongrel or wolf. He turned and looked back at Alicia, who he guessed hadn’t noticed him yet and smiled.

“I’m sorry ma’am. But that really is all there is to the story. We were defeated by mere Inferi, ma’am.” Vincent smiled under his mask as Alicia raised an eyebrow and frowned at him. After a moment she rubbed the bridge of her nose, annoyed.

“Your team must have had the brains of mooncalves, then.” She huffed and turned away, “Go sleep. We’re moving out for the forest at dawn.”

Vincent smirked and turned to look at the silhouette in the distance once more, who seemed to be creeping away from the scene, only stopping when seeing he was being directly looked at.

Vincent reached up and took off his mask, letting it hang by the strap in his hand as he pulled off the cloth over his head for air, revealing his unruly ash hair and eyes, matched by the light wrinkles of a man seen by time but not yet weakened by its flow. He gave the boy a light salute, too tired to give it proper form, keeping it for only for a moment.

He wasn’t sure how to thank him, but he’d seen people scarred by war before, and he trusted his gut. He would see this stranger again, somewhere, sometime. He knew it.

The shadow paused for a moment, before running away into the shadows, back in whatever path he had been on before the two met. Vincent watched for a moment, before, satisfied with his observations, turned towards his camp for some well deserved sleep.

END OF EXPEDITION 01

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #allan waite #the mcverse #the expeditions #(Author’s notes: IM SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO DO THIS. I HOPE TO MAKE THIS A SERIES OF ONESHOTS- BUT BECAUSE OF THE SHEER LENGTH OF EACH #ONE AND HOW STRESSFUL MY CLASSES ARE THIS TOOK SOOOO LONG #I promise now that Expedition 01 is out I’m actually going to try to catch up on stuff Ive been missing like art trades and stuff I’m just #SO BUSY 😭 be really patient with me I promise I didnt forget anyones requests Im just B U S Y #Anyway I hope you enjoy and dont mind waiting a few decades for the next one to come out ROFL. I’ll try my best to be consistent but no pro #🤣 sorry)

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human-sweater-vest · 1 year ago

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okay so we’ve seen glenn and ron so far in season two and they’ve been kind of what I expected.

glenn is pretty much the same as he was season one. it makes sense, he’s set in his whole thing, he’s vibing in hell with morgan and is sporting the same chill stoner vibes as before. the notable thing with him was that there wasn’t really animosity between him and nick (which also makes sense given their whole deal in season one). he’s always been far removed and it makes sense that in season two he’s still rockin with it.

ron then was a really touching surprise because he continued to grow as a person (insert beth may snickering here). he connected easily with scary and hit me like a fucking freight train with the line about him being sorry that she didn’t realize that losing terry jr. was her loss too. he’s this strange intermediary between the men in their family because willy took advantage of her needing someone to validate her pain, terry jr. was seen as a cause of it and therefore couldn’t help ease it truly (until things were too late), and then ron is here being his odd little self and extends sympathy to her because he also lost terry jr. and can understand. kudos to beth for ep. 41 because she rode the line between comedy and genuinely heartfelt and deep emotional moments like a champ.

and now here’s where we turn to speculation:

I’ve seen a lot of folks saying they’re worried about henry (and I feel like he’s probably going to warrant that because duh, it all comes back to the oak family when it comes to the doodler). however! my first point here is that we shouldn’t ignore darryl.

I feel like we see the most thought going into the oaks (and again, rightfully so, will and anthony are serving us trauma and drama on a platter) and I think one of the sacrifices with that comes at the extent of the wilson boys. the darryl/grant arc was the first time I really, truly got what dndads was all about. specifically, matt’s incredible line where darryl is replying to the other dads saying that he should showcase vulnerability to grant with darryl snapping and saying that he can’t be fully honest because he’s putting on a brave face because he doesn’t know if they’ll make it out and if he and carol will even stay together if they do. that line then contrasted later when he says that if grant asks him a question he’ll do his best to answer truthfully which allows for the big emotional connection they were lacking.

the wilson father/son relationship hinges on the idea of not being able to love the pain away and we see that extend into the next generation in a deeply tragic way. grant can’t make his mental illness magically disappear by loving his son despite how badly he clearly wants to. he can’t “we’ll talk about it later” his way into a healthy relationship where he’s able to offer his son both stability and truth. he’s fucked up and traumatized and never fully dealt with things and he’s dealing with the ramifications.

so how do we think darryl feels about that? how do we think darryl would feel knowing that he couldn’t love away grant’s mental illness (which isn’t something you can do, but he feels immensely guilty about in season one) and seeing the disastrous effect it had on the relationship between his son and grandson to the point where linc no longer refers to him as a dad? I personally really do think that he’ll act as a balm between the two and finally provide that space for them to become father and son again.

there’s truly so much I could say on the wilson family because I’m fascinated by the transition between the most stereotypically masculine family dynamic to a queered one (in both senses of the world) and how the thru line for the generations is this idea of not being able to 1. disclose the truth out of a sense of protection (see: frank hiding his marital and monetary issues, darryl hiding his martial issues and fear of not surviving faerun, and grant hiding who he is and what he does) and 2. love away the pain/illness.

and now we turn to the oak boys. I’m operating on the assumption that henry will be the last dad that they seek out because 1. glenn and terry jr. are in the same spot which means we get a two for one combo deal in hell 2. lark and sparrow clearly have a bad or at the very least strained relationship with their dad and will be less likely to jump on seeking him out and 3. the oak family started the whole doodler thing in this show so it makes sense that they’ll end it.

and for the sake of transparency: here’s where my bias comes through. henry was my favorite season one dad. normal is my favorite season two kid. will campos if you’re reading this, I want you to know that if I could simultaneously give you an academy award and sue you for emotional damages, I would.

the oaks have the most literal device explaining their generational trauma. hildy was ripped from her world after her companions were brutally killed in front of her, barry is a piece of shit, henry has the weight of both his father and having to be a father despite not having a role model, lark and sparrow are fucked up beyond belief in a manner of ways that starts at fucking their twin’s spouse and ends with starting the literal apocalypse. and then there’s normal. bearing the brunt of it all when he wasn’t even given the support to. he’s been carrying the weight of expectation since birth. his sister is hero, he’s normal and yet he’s anything but. that’s a whole other essay (catch me writing that when it’s not 2am).

back to the twins and henry though. from their view it’s bad right? lark hates his dad and destroyed the world. sparrow was an accomplice. I can’t imagine that things were easy after the doodler was released in the oak-garcia household. ESPECIALLY — and this has had me uncomfortable since we learned it offhand in episode 29 of the season — because henry and mercedes had another kid. first things first (and this might just be a me and my cultural background thing), but a minimum decade age gap between your first and second kids is A Lot. especially given the context here that henry struggles with being a father for the aforementioned reasons and his children literally Ended The World. I dunno about you but I think that I’d avoid having more kids at pretty much all costs at that point. but he and mercedes don’t. and hey maybe birdie/birdy was an accident. but my suspicion here (and I very much might be reading too deep into something mentioned in a literal “see you again” parody) is that birdie was a second chance kid. which would fucking blow if you were the aforementioned dad-stabbing—eldritch-creature-releasing child because it would look like your dad had gone “okay well that didn’t work out I can’t find a way to make these kids work so let’s try another one” which would justify the distance and dislike of henry from both of the boys.

I’m a very big fan of henry. he’s fucked up in the exact way I like my fictional men and also reminds me of guys from the city I grew up in which is both appalling and endearing. however, this is absolutely a move I could see him justifying to himself which morally makes me wanna walk into the sea and from a character/story standpoint makes me wanna jump up and down in glee. I really, truly am hoping that things pan out like that and we see a henry who loves his beautiful boys very deeply, but also gave up on them in exchange for a do-over.

I’m especially excited to see how he interacts with normal because my first instinct based on season one without my fucked up and evil birdie theory is that he’ll love normal and make him feel special and seen while my second post-birdiegate instinct is that he’s just not going to care anymore and therefore do fuck-all for normal. he has the energy of a man who eventually just stops trying because he can’t ever make everything better. will campos, if you deliver on that, I’ll figure out how to sneak the oak family into an academic paper.

finally (for now), I’m predicting that the familial reunions will reflect the how the anchors broke. glenn, ron, and darryl will be love while henry will be hate. I think there’s a lot of possibility there that I can break down when it’s not almost 3am. thanks for reading! lmk what you think, I really want to discuss this with folks and get your takes!!

#yes! the formatting is whack! I’ll clean it in the morning!#dndads #oh dndads you make me so silly #I sit down and go hmm I like the new arc set up and suddenly it’s two hours later and I’ve written 1500 words about it #sponsored by adhd and brain rot #dungeons and daddies #big ol ramblings on #henry oak #lark oak #sparrow oak #darryl wilson #grant wilson #if any of the daddies see this #know that my promise at the end to will is true and I’ll go through with it and @ y’all #dndads season 2 #gonna trademark birdiegate #cheers

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