Chapter 63 - Lucky Hunting III

Of course, Ron expected his spells to miss; the man had inhuman agility. So, Ron chose the best next option to break him slowly.

With a quick slide into his coat, he grabbed a grenade fitted with a sleeping potion. Then, he shot multiple spells at Fenrir as the man tried to zig-zag towards him to reach him. Once he found the perfect chance and trajectory, he threw the grenade with another Crucio spell.

Poof!

The grenade exploded without fire, but left behind a green mist, engulfing Fenrir.

"Grrrr! Childish tricks! Haha!" Fenrir mocked and continued to rush towards Ron.

Ron scoffed and noticed the slight decrease in Fenrir's speed. So, he turned around and made a run for it. As fast as he could, through the darkness of the forest. His magically enhanced eyes helped a great deal, allowing him to take narrower paths and hide.

"Come out, Weasley! I can smell you! Fight me!" Fenrir approached the area where Ron was hiding. "Let's make a deal. I'll let you live if you—"

Thud!

Fenrir fell into one of the traps Ron had left behind. A pit filled with poisonous air. But the feral man still saved himself from fully falling, hanging on by his harp claws.

Woosh!

Next came a thick branch swinging his way, hitting him as soon as he came out of the pit. Yet another trap set by Ron.

Tap! Tap!

"Hmm?" Fallen on the ground, Fenrir noticed a small, ball-like thing roll closer to him and hit his feet. He scoffed at it. "Is that all you have?"

BOOM!

A real, fiery explosion echoed in that instance. The ball of fire and smoke arose high in the sky.

"Aaaaarrgh!" Fenrir roared in absolute pain, having never experienced such a weapon. "He stared down at his feet and to his horror, everything below his knees was gone, blown to smithereens. "WEALSEY!"

That was bloody easy! Ron stood in hiding, a bit in shock. A single grenade took down Fenrir so easily. What if it's not enough?

Tap! Tap!

Once again, another ball-like thing struck Fenrir. This time the old werewolf tried to cover himself. But, it didn't let out an explosion this time. Instead, there was thick, green smoke that he inhaled.

"More tricks!" Fenrir roared in indignant fury, his bloody half-legs flailing as he crawled with both claw-like hands on the ground.

At last, Ron walked out of the cover of the tree and started walking closer to Fenrir. Although the man had no legs, he still chose to keep a distance.

"When is Voldemort going to attack? I need the date!" Ron interrogated, wand at the ready. "Crucio!"

"Aaaaaugh…!" Fenrir rolled on the muddy, forest grounds, making a mess of his blood and mud.

"Crucio!"

At some point, mental pain increased far more than physical pain.

"Crucio!"

Ron dared not stop at the creature. "Tell me the date and I'll let you live in Azkaban!"

"What dat—"

"Crucio!" Ron, his expressions cold, held no reservations against violence anymore. "I'll keep doing it until you tell me."

Fenrir grunted, the loss of blood quickly took a toll on him. He stared at Ron with a grimace. "I won't t—"

Bam! Bam!

"Diffindo!" Ron used the Severing charm to make bleeding cuts on Fenrir's back. "There, now you'll bleed faster."

"You're not as great as they say!" Fenrir coughed out.

"Crucio," Ron persisted. "I don't care. Give me the fucking date! When will he attack the ministry?"

"Crucio!"

"Crucio!"

"Crucio!"

Ron lost the count of how many times he hit Fenrir with those curses. The man just kept groaning without stopping.

"I'll keep going—Crucio!"

"Cru—"

"18th June!" Fenrir yelled out at last.

Ron stopped abruptly. The day wasn't too far away. "You could be lying—Crucio!"

"Noooo~ No, I'm not lying! It is June 18th!" Fenrir insisted.

So he does know fear. Ron scoffed and took further steps away from the feral man. Then, he took out yet another grenade from his pocket. Too bad for you, I'm not the same Ron as before.

Tap! Tap!

The grenade landed right beside Fenrir's defeated, bloodied body.

BOOM!

Once again, a massive ball of fire and a cloud of smoke formed. The explosion was more intense, and Fenrir Greyback's body was ruined beyond recognition. Everything, from head to toe was destroyed into pieces.

That's it? It was too easy to kill him.

Crack! Grrrr…!

What's that sound? Ron frowned and lifted his wand again. Fenrir was dead beyond doubt, so he had no clue who this could be. He just quickly gathered the leftover head of Fenrir into his bag and became alert.

Grrrr…!

The ground's shaking? He mumbled, realizing there were multiple enemies.

Grrr…!

Sadly, at the first sight of his enemies, Ron froze. A massive hoard of tarantulas.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"

Scalp tingling, Ron forgot every single fighting technique and all he knew now was to run away as fast as possible. He gave it his best, not even daring to look behind.

BOOM!

Frantic, Ron dropped minor explosives on the way. It burned the spiders but also made them angrier. Their numbers continued to increase and they started to surround him from all sides.

Fuck, fuck! Fucking hell!

There was no looking back.

Boom!

####

Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade.

It was nighttime and the inn was full of guests. The staff and Rosmerta were busy serving drinks to the guests.

Creak!

Just then, the door of the inn opened and one man in dirty and tattered clothes walked in. Everything about him was dirty, but one look at his hair made everyone feel respect.

Thud!

Ron landed on a round stool at the bar. "Water… please!"

Running from tarantulas turned out extremely hard. Still out of breath, he gulped down glass after glass of water.

"You don't look good," Madam Rosmerta commented, passing a small shot of Firewhiskey at him. "You'll need this."

Ron paid no mind and gulped down the shot in one go. The burning sensation in his mouth only made him thirst for more. "More!"

"Can I join?"

"Ugh…" Ron annoyedly glanced beside him. It took him a few moments to realize who it was. Pale-skinned, with hair curly blonde bordering auburn, her face flustered from drinks. "Clearwater?"

"Weasley." She acknowledged and took the stool beside him. Being two years older than him and already a graduate of Hogwarts, she maintained a proud, Ravenclaw attitude. "You look…"

"I know, I know!" Ron downed another shot. He could feel his damn skin crawl just at the thought of the tarantulas, he didn't want to mention them at the moment. Not now, maybe not ever again. He knew the nightmares were going to persist for a long time to come.

"You here?"

"Hmph!" Penelope puffed her chest, too drunk already. "None of your business."

"Alright." Ron ignored her and started drinking more to forget the nightmare fuel.

Penelope pouted and snatched the next shot glass from him and downed it herself. "So ungentlemanly. At least give me some company."

"Fine." Ron still ignored her, without another word.

Penelope sat there gesturing for another round from Madam Rosmerta and placed some coins on the counter to pay for everything.

Amused, Ron looked at her face. Clearwater—perfect name for her.

She had clear pale skin, unblemished in the slightest. Her blonde hair was almost golden if the lighting was just right, but auburn under the shadows, a duality that bordered a mystery. Ron wondered if that proud look was her true self, or the woman drinking recklessly beside him right now. He was curious but didn't really want to go through the hassle of finding out.

Women… Ron gibed internally.

Both of them keep drinking for a while, talking about mundane things to pass the time.

But then Penelope suddenly stared at his pants and kept staring. "I-I've heard... you're big... really? How big?"

Ron almost spat out his drink, "W-what? W-Who told you that?! Wait… you girls…"

Penelope giggled, her unrestrained laughter like charming bells. She leaned in a bit closer to him. "Oh please Ron, men aren't the only ones to talk about... that…"

"You..." Ron flustered, but he quickly frowned and turned away from her. "You're drunk, you should go home."

Thump.

Madam Rosmeta suddenly placed a key on the bar counter and slid it across to Penelope. She winked at Ron and smiled as she looked at the drunk and crimson-faced Penelope.

Ron was confused, speechlessly looking at the two women. What's with this fucking luck?

"Ooh... my favorite room." Penelope grabbed the key and tugged on Ron's arm, trying to drag him away. "Come on... show it to me... don't be shy..."

Ron almost fell off the stool and before he could balance his feet, he was made to stumble behind, following Penelope.

Ron didn't know if he was drunk, utterly confused, or just too exhausted to mutter his jumbled-up thoughts. The missed opportunity with Narcissa that morning had left him unsatisfied plenty.

One foot followed the other, and he eventually found himself inside the room. A very basic room in the inn, with a large queen-sized bed, a table and chair by the window, and an adequate dresser.

Thud! Click!

Ron quickly looked behind him and realized Penelope had closed and locked the door, leaning her back against it, and looking at him with a glint in her eyes. She took off her jacket, one arm at a time, and dropped it to the floor.

"Wait, Wait.."

"Wait? For what?" Penelope's flushed face smirked a seductive little smile as she slowly stepped up to him. Her hips swayed with every step, like a cat coming closer and closer to its prey.

As her hands slid under his coat, crawling up his chest, Ron took a few steps back. But even when his logic and exhaustion were saying no right now, his manhood was thoroughly tempted.

"I can't… We don't… We can't…" Ron's heel collided with the lower edge of the bed, disorientated and still a bit drunk, he fell back with a poof.

"Come on Ron, we definitely can… Don't be such a pussy… that's my part…" Penelope bit her lip as her hands slid up his thighs, eventually stroking the small hill in his pants. "I want to, don't you?"

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