The Adventures of Roonil Wazlib part 1

The Capture

As Ron came tumbling out of his apparition, he crumpled to the ground and let out the tears that had been building for days. He couldn't believe he had just abandoned his two best friends - his only friends, as a matter of fact. 'Loser!' he berated himself, over and over. He felt entirely unworthy of their friendship. Wave after wave of sadness, regret, and pain washed over him, until he felt he couldn't breathe. His sad wailing grew louder & louder.

"Scabior, we got another one!" he heard a rough voice yell. With a shock, Ron ceased his crying, and quickly surveyed his location. He wasn't sure exactly where he was, he left in such a hurry he didn't really remember what was in his mind when he apparated. His first thought was that he might be somewhere near his family home outside the village Ottery-St. Catchpole, which would probably be the very worst place to turn up. Death eaters were certainly monitoring the area where his family's home was known to be, looking for Ron, Hermione, and Harry. He saw, and felt, cobblestones under his feet. That was a relief, as there was nothing but wheat fields & swamp within a few miles around his home. The second thought was Hogsmeade, which would be almost as bad. With Severus Snape as headmaster, there was certainly a watch set there, too. However, Hogsmeade had a quaint, whimsical air about it, houses that looked like gingerbread confections, shops with brightly colored signs outside and appealing items in the windows. As he looked around, he realized there was absolutely nothing appealing about this place. Through the damp, cold fog, he saw old run-down looking buildings, many with broken windows, as if nobody had attended their repair in many years. It looked like Knockturn Alley. SHIT. He saw no other people, but heard the sound of hard leather soles on the cobblestones of the street around the corner of the nearest building.

'You've really stepped in it now, haven't you, Ron?' As quietly as he could manage, Ron stood up, noticing a searing pain in his left foot. His recently splinched right arm, which hadn't fully healed yet, was throbbing dully. He hobbled as quickly as he could to the darkened doorway of the building he had landed in front of.

But he wasn't fast, or quiet, enough. Just as he was trying to melt into the darkness, he saw a man with long, scraggly hair running around the corner. It was braided at the bottom, leaving the top curly and unkempt, and he was wearing trousers with a Union Jack pattern. He reminded Ron of an 80s era pop star. "There he is!" the man yelled to his as yet unseen companions. His voice was slightly higher than the first one he had heard, with a Cockney accent.

He grabbed Ron by the collar of his jacket. "Well well, what have we here? What are you doing out so late, past curfew, ginger?" he smirked. Ron's mind whirled, trying to think of a plausible excuse to be alone in this area at this time of night.

"I was trying to get to the Leaky Cauldron, and I guess I, I must have gotten lost," Ron said rapidly. It was the best excuse he could come up with on the spot, and it sounded implausible even to him. "Can you point me in the right direction?" he asked weakly.

The man holding his arm laughed. "Now why would you be looking for the Cauldron? And where you coming from, huh ginger? There's a curfew, or haven't you heard? Are you daft? I heard you apparating in, you just got here. Now, let's try this again. Where you coming from?" The man had an unpleasant leer; at this close a distance, Ron could smell an unpleasant mixture of garlic and body odor.

"Uhhh, Hogwarts?" Again, the first thing that popped into his mind. Mentally Ron took stock of his ability to defend himself. He still had his wand in his hand. Trying not to show his movement, he twisted his wrist and yelled, "Expelliarmus!" He wasn't sure the wizard (Scabior, apparently) was even using a wand, but he couldn't think of anything else. Besides, it had worked for Harry against Voldemort....

To Ron's surprise, Scabior's hand flew off of Ron's arm and backwards with a sickening CRACK! Scabior screamed, "Ginger bastard broke my arm! WELLINGTON!"

Ron didn't wait to meet this Wellington, but took off running at top speed. He had no idea where he was going, or what he was going to do when he got there. He was surprisingly fast despite the now excruciating pain in his foot. In front of him, down the street, he heard a voice yell, "EL ESTE AL MEU!" A powerfully built man with shoulder length brown hair, wearing a long overcoat & black leather gloves, came striding up the street towards him and Scabior. Ron desperately looked for a way out, but he was caught between the two men.

"Lesch, what are you doing here?" Scabior said, his voice panicked. "You are supposed to be up in Diagon Alley patrolling!"

"Expunere propriu limba," the man said to Scabior, who wore a bemused expression on his face. "Limba! LIMBA!" the man shouted, holding out his own arm and pointing at it. Scabior turned his left arm toward Lesch, unable to hold it out as he was shown.

"Brackium Emendo," Lesch said calmly, pointing his wand at the smaller man's broken arm.  Scabior let out a short yell, then started flexing his arm, which was completely healed. "Thanks, Lesch. And could you keep in mind, I don't speak fucking Romanian!"

"That's because you're idiot," Lesch said lazily in a thick accent. "Now hand roscovan to me. I collect bounty."

"I was the one who caught him!" Scabior whined. At that moment Ron first noticed three additional men had joined them. They all had an unkempt, dirty look, as if they hadn't bathed in a week. "Why would you collect the bounty?"

"Because, I can do this," Lesch said, blasting Scabior with a nonverbal spell Ron had never seen before. A flash of blue light pushed Scabior back, until his head hit the brick building behind him with a loud CRACK! Ron was also caught in this blue light, and was pushed backward. Fortunately Scabior cushioned his fall, so Ron was unhurt.

"WHAT THE HELL, LESCH!" Ron heard the man with the rough voice yell. Quick as a flash, Lesch used the same spell three more times, before the other men even had their wands out. All three of them flew back and did not get up.

"Hurry, get their wands before they wake up!" Lesch yelled to Ron in an American accent. Ron did as he was told, hobbling on his hurt foot. It felt like an eternity to get to them, but he managed to grab all four wands. By this time Lesch had reached Ron's side in front of the last of the men. Without a word, he grabbed Ron's arm, and apparated away.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to everyone who has stayed with the story this far! I apologize for any errors in the Romanian phrases. I don't know the language, I had to Google the words & phrases I needed. To save you some time, "El este al meu" is "He is mine." "Expunere propriu limba," "Give me your arm." "Roscovan," "redhead." If any of these phrases are wrong, I would welcome correction. The reason he is speaking Romanian, then switches to Romanian accented English, and finally American accented English, will be clear in the next chapter.