Faye (
said_scarlett) wrote2004-02-01 10:06 am
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Alright...I like this idea. I like Remus stuck in what is essentially a den of Death Eaters. But not held captive. This is not a slash piece, or at least I have no intention of it being a slash peice. Anyway, this is what I have so far. I may continue, but if I don't....meh, it stands as it is and makes a neat little peice on Igor. The character, not my cat.
>
It is said that all great men are hunters. To hunt the large game animal was noble and virile, a pastime steeped in esteem and respect. A true hunter was a man of skill, of power, of cunning and of courage. And of course he was a man of wealth and prestige to fund his expeditions.
Igor Karkaroff was a hunter. The sport had fascinated him since he was a small child, his father’s trophies watching him with their blank eyes. Elephants, tigers, the one horned beasts of the African plains…the hunt had been his father’s passion, and passion had passed from father to son.
As a young man, Igor traveled the world in pursuit of his leisure. Avada Kedavra brought down many a great beast, across India, the Serengeti and Asia. Every year another expedition, every year another prey. His collection was extensive and impressive. Chimeras, dragons, manticores, even a nundu head looked down from Igor’s mantle.
As he grew older, his prey changed. For what prey was more challenging than another human being? Was it not said that the ultimate animal was that known as Man?
And now the Hunt was growing old, and Igor was weary. The Dark Lord had been generous, allowing him to live as long as he served. But it had grown tiresome. Retirement had come in the form of Durmstang, a notable and worthy vocation. Headmaster of a well known institution, aged bachelor, old world gentleman…why could he not live in peace?
The Dark Lord was not a kind master. Always there was something more that needed to be done, some new task that called to Igor. Tonight he sat, wine in hand, watching the fire. ’I have a gift for you,’ the Dark Lord had said. ’A beast for you, I know how you so enjoy them.’
But a beast bound and gagged on his carpet was an insult rather than a gift. What sport was there in that? Why not give the creature to Macnair, the man enjoyed this sort of thing. Igor was a hunter, a gentleman. He as not an executioner nor common murderer.
The beast stirred, writhing and grunting on the scarlet carpet. Igor’s rooms were scarlet, Durmstang scarlet. He sighed, setting aside his wine.
“Do not bother, you are bound tightly.”
The beast stopped, eyes of glittering topaz fixing on Igor. It did not appear frightened or distressed, more curious than anything else. It was a healthy specimen, the Death Eater reflected. Lean, well muscled, bright eyed. A bit of white in it’s hair, a few lines about it’s eyes…he guess it’s age around forty or so. It was hard to tell.
“I imagine you are wondering where you are. Or perhaps whom I am.” Igor stood, stepping round the beast to look out the window over the darkened grounds of Durmstang.
“I hate little interest in your death,” he continued. “It would be simple, of course, to kill you. A flick of my wand and the deed would be done. But it would be a waste. I am appreciative of what you are. No, I shall not kill you. Never was I told that I must.”
The beast was watching him, expression curious. Igor wondered what it was thinking.
“I read once, a story by an Englishman. It is much forgotten in my mind, but a man hunted another man on his grounds. It was a game to him, this man’s death. I enjoyed it very much. It has been so very long since I last hunted.” Thin lips pulled back in a grim smile. “But I am an old man, and I have given up the Hunt many years ago.”
The beast looked puzzled now, eyes still locked on Igor.
“No, I shall not kill you. You may well have a use. Ah yes, how very rude of me.” Igor bent, removing the gag. “You may speak, of course.”
“Thank you,” the beast said, licking it’s lips. “And I know who you are.”
“Do you?” Igor raised his eyebrows. “I am flattered.”
“What are you going to do with me?” There was no fear, only quizzical interest.
“I have not yet decided. What do you wish for me to do with you?”
“I suppose letting me go’s out of the question?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
Igor watched it, arms folded. What a curious beast, truly. Where was the fire of which he had read?
“You are…domesticated?”
“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose. My name is Remus Lupin, if that tells you anything…”
“Ah. Yes. Dumbledore’s pet. How…charming.” What had the Dark Lord been thinking? “You taught for him, did you not?”
“I did,” the beast said with a nod. “Not very long…”
“But you did.”
“Yes.”
“I see.” Perhaps the animal had a use after all. “My own Defense Professor has…suffered an accident. How fortunate that a new one is deposited in my study.“ A night on the floor would do it well, at any rate. Igor needed to think, and to sleep. It had been a rather long day. “I will think on you, and your uses, Remus Lupin. In the morning we shall discuss your stay with me in more detail. Goodnight.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
>
It is said that all great men are hunters. To hunt the large game animal was noble and virile, a pastime steeped in esteem and respect. A true hunter was a man of skill, of power, of cunning and of courage. And of course he was a man of wealth and prestige to fund his expeditions.
Igor Karkaroff was a hunter. The sport had fascinated him since he was a small child, his father’s trophies watching him with their blank eyes. Elephants, tigers, the one horned beasts of the African plains…the hunt had been his father’s passion, and passion had passed from father to son.
As a young man, Igor traveled the world in pursuit of his leisure. Avada Kedavra brought down many a great beast, across India, the Serengeti and Asia. Every year another expedition, every year another prey. His collection was extensive and impressive. Chimeras, dragons, manticores, even a nundu head looked down from Igor’s mantle.
As he grew older, his prey changed. For what prey was more challenging than another human being? Was it not said that the ultimate animal was that known as Man?
And now the Hunt was growing old, and Igor was weary. The Dark Lord had been generous, allowing him to live as long as he served. But it had grown tiresome. Retirement had come in the form of Durmstang, a notable and worthy vocation. Headmaster of a well known institution, aged bachelor, old world gentleman…why could he not live in peace?
The Dark Lord was not a kind master. Always there was something more that needed to be done, some new task that called to Igor. Tonight he sat, wine in hand, watching the fire. ’I have a gift for you,’ the Dark Lord had said. ’A beast for you, I know how you so enjoy them.’
But a beast bound and gagged on his carpet was an insult rather than a gift. What sport was there in that? Why not give the creature to Macnair, the man enjoyed this sort of thing. Igor was a hunter, a gentleman. He as not an executioner nor common murderer.
The beast stirred, writhing and grunting on the scarlet carpet. Igor’s rooms were scarlet, Durmstang scarlet. He sighed, setting aside his wine.
“Do not bother, you are bound tightly.”
The beast stopped, eyes of glittering topaz fixing on Igor. It did not appear frightened or distressed, more curious than anything else. It was a healthy specimen, the Death Eater reflected. Lean, well muscled, bright eyed. A bit of white in it’s hair, a few lines about it’s eyes…he guess it’s age around forty or so. It was hard to tell.
“I imagine you are wondering where you are. Or perhaps whom I am.” Igor stood, stepping round the beast to look out the window over the darkened grounds of Durmstang.
“I hate little interest in your death,” he continued. “It would be simple, of course, to kill you. A flick of my wand and the deed would be done. But it would be a waste. I am appreciative of what you are. No, I shall not kill you. Never was I told that I must.”
The beast was watching him, expression curious. Igor wondered what it was thinking.
“I read once, a story by an Englishman. It is much forgotten in my mind, but a man hunted another man on his grounds. It was a game to him, this man’s death. I enjoyed it very much. It has been so very long since I last hunted.” Thin lips pulled back in a grim smile. “But I am an old man, and I have given up the Hunt many years ago.”
The beast looked puzzled now, eyes still locked on Igor.
“No, I shall not kill you. You may well have a use. Ah yes, how very rude of me.” Igor bent, removing the gag. “You may speak, of course.”
“Thank you,” the beast said, licking it’s lips. “And I know who you are.”
“Do you?” Igor raised his eyebrows. “I am flattered.”
“What are you going to do with me?” There was no fear, only quizzical interest.
“I have not yet decided. What do you wish for me to do with you?”
“I suppose letting me go’s out of the question?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
Igor watched it, arms folded. What a curious beast, truly. Where was the fire of which he had read?
“You are…domesticated?”
“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose. My name is Remus Lupin, if that tells you anything…”
“Ah. Yes. Dumbledore’s pet. How…charming.” What had the Dark Lord been thinking? “You taught for him, did you not?”
“I did,” the beast said with a nod. “Not very long…”
“But you did.”
“Yes.”
“I see.” Perhaps the animal had a use after all. “My own Defense Professor has…suffered an accident. How fortunate that a new one is deposited in my study.“ A night on the floor would do it well, at any rate. Igor needed to think, and to sleep. It had been a rather long day. “I will think on you, and your uses, Remus Lupin. In the morning we shall discuss your stay with me in more detail. Goodnight.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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a rather original appraoch to the DE's and Karkaroff - definitely got me hooked
it works well on its own, but if you had a larger fic to put it in, good too! (and hey! Remus being a great Defence teacher at Durmstrang, ah the irony *g*)
good one, definitely!
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I've rec'd it on my journal (finally) in today's 5xDeathEaters, thought you might like to know.
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