Intro: Warren Rodemiere was an upcoming quidditch star when a catastrophic accident causes a sudden change in his plans. A darker, more controversial side of Warren emerges and he is forced to make a decision...the one he loves, or the one he hunts.

The wind is right, the sun is right, seems everything is in perfect order. Warren mounted his broom and flew into the air as the building excitement began to flow into him. He always got this way when he was about to play Quidditch, whether it was a practice or an actual game. Today was a game and nothing could have made his day any better. Scouts from major clubs were supposed to be watching him today and it was in these pressured moments that he preformed his best as a chaser. He flew around the pitch a few times, enjoying the wind blowing through his blonde hair and the feel of his purple and gold uniform, the official colors for the Dotemer Dragons, being pressed against him. He flew lower and lower then landed gracefully onto the soft grass of the pitch. He saw Jason, the teams Captain, heading towards him and he smiled. "Ready for the match, Jason?"

Jason stopped in front of Warren and smiled, "Ready as I'll ever be. How about you War? It's a big game, if we win this then we win the championship."

"I've been ready for this moment for a long time." Warren looked passed Jason's shoulder and smiled as the rest of the team came out of the locker room and took up their positions. He then saw the opposing team follow, the Manchester Mandrakes, the reigning champions in minor club quidditch. He scowled at them and whispered to Jason, "We have to beat them today or else we will continue to hear it for a very, very long time."

Jason nodded grimly and took his place in the center of the pitch opposite the nasty tempered Michael Rodgers, captain of the Mandrakes. Warren watched them carefully as he took his place next to Jason, he could feel the tension building as the referee came out to start the game. He pushed off from the ground hard as soon as the quaffle was released and reached it first. Grabbing the quaffle, Warren tossed it to one of the other chasers and sped down field dodging bludgers and players until he reached the goal. Someone passed him the quaffle and he threw it into the right ring as hard as he could. The quaffle went soaring passed the Keeper's outstretched hands to score ten points for Dotemer.

On and on the game went, Warren threw the quaffle into the rings to score numerous times and the crowd was going wild. The seekers had yet to find the snitch, but that didn't matter to Warren as his excitement was mounting by each and every quaffle he threw in the rings to score for Dotemer. It seemed he was unstoppable, a sudden movement by the seeker caught Warren's eye and he smiled broadly. They had it in the bag, there was no way that they would lose now. Warren spun his broom back around to intercept the quaffle that was now being tossed between two chasers on the Mandrake's team. He leaned forward on his broom causing his broom to move even faster, when he passed the two chasers he turned around with the intention of fending one of them off and causing him to drop the quaffle. What he saw when he spun around made his eyes bulge, he didn't have time to dodge or duck, the bludger was heading straight for him. He pushed his broom straight down to dive...it was too late, it hit him in the head. Warren felt a searing pain in his right temple and fell off his broom, he could see the ground coming up faster and faster with no way to stop and then...everything went black.

This is good so far!

xXJEFFXx

Hey babes. Told you they would sit quiet rofl. Loved it. <-- Says it all dnt it.

Shannon.
(So subscribing )

YAYYY!! I wasn't sure about it since I've never written in this genre, I usually write science-fiction. I'm glad you two love it. I'll be writing another part probably later tonight

I wonder...in the intro,it seems as though you explained him like Two face from Batman..... like this part..

'A darker, more controversial side of Warren emerges and he is forced to make a decision...the one he loves, or the one he hunts.'

'.)('_ -Thats two face.....MUHAHAHA!

LOL. I didn't think about that, I was going for the more mysterious side of him. Keeps you intrigued see...now you want to know what comes next...

Good point......So he has a Darker,More Brutal,More bloodthirsty side?

You're just going to have to read it to find out

okay............When is the next part,Though?

later tonight. or maybe in a few hours...depends on how bored I get

Wow, Cinn. It's very good. *subscribing* Keep it going <3

And now to continue Warren Rodemiere's tale....

"The skull is fractured, along with several bones. We have healed these, but there may be lasting damage only time will be able to tell."

"Thank you; when will he wake up?"

"He took a pretty hard fall...we...we can't really tell yet. We've given him every magical remedy that we can; now it's up to him."

Warren could hear the voices and yet they seemed so far away. His eyelids felt like lead and they would not budge. In his mind, he kept replaying the incident over and over; it seemed almost surreal now, as if it had just been a dream. He felt a sudden weight on his bed and knew that someone else was there. With every effort he possessed, he pried open his eyes; the room was blurry, out of focus, and extremely bright, too bright to be the Quidditch pitch. He turned his head and he felt a searing pain from his temple to his collar bone. A man was sitting on his bed with ministry robes. "Father?" his throat was dry and it came out as a strained whisper. The man turned and stared in concern at Warren; the man gripped Warren's hand in a tight grip which caused another searing pain and made Warren wince. "Too tight...hand...hurts."

"Sorry. I'm so sorry Warren, I forgot," the man said in a richly deep baritone as he let go of Warren's hand. "How are you feeling, son?"

"Like I got hit with a bludger that was the size of a dragon," Warren laughed and winced again. "Did we win?"

His father shook his head, "No son, with you out of the game the Mandrakes were able to come back and win."

"Blight it!" Warren yelled, which was followed by another burst of searing pain.

Another man entered the room, also wearing ministry robes and came to his father's side, "Minister Rodemiere, we have urgent news regarding the bandits that we were chasing."

Warren's father side and turned toward his son, "I'm afraid I'll have to leave. I will be back later though, I promise."

Warren nodded sleepily and started drifting off to sleep. He could hear bits and pieces of the conversation that his father was having with the head auror, but couldn't piece them together. As he drifted further and further to sleep, the visions of the bludger heading straight toward him appeared again.

One month later...

Warren walked out on the Quidditch pitch for the first time in a month. His coach had been kind enough to save his spot for him, showing more faith in his recovery and ability than anybody else had in the entire month leading up to this moment. The accident had given him a nasty scar along his right temple that ran all the way down to his eye socket, but it didn't bother Warren in the slightest. Jason joked that it made him even scarier looking then he was before the accident. He grinned widely as he mounted his broom and waited for the referee to start the game. Looking around, he saw numerous fans in the stadium, along with his father and his cronies, and the scouts that had been at his last game. The referee came out and released the quaffle and the game started.

It was almost like deja-vu; Warren reached the quaffle first and passed it to another chaser. After he had completed the pass he froze in midair; a weird feeling came over him as he threw the quaffle. Jason flew over to Warren with concern written plainly across his face. "War?! Are you okay?"

Warren nodded and swallowed a lump that had started to form in his throat. He sped forward toward the rings, caught the quaffle that was thrown toward him, and threw it as hard as he could to the unguarded right ring. Warren froze again, arm still outstretched from the throw. A chaser flew over and hit him across the shoulder to make him snap out of it. Warren shook his head and flew down the pitch; as he reached the other side, he saw a bludger flying straight at his head and, once again, he froze as his mind replayed the incident at the last game. He saw a beater’s bat cross his vision and hit it out of the way. Warren still sat frozen; Jason called time out and flew over to Warren. "War? I think...I think you'd better go sit out and send Chelsea in." Jason nodded toward the two beaters who helped Warren down to the pitch. As he was escorted down, Warren looked up at his father’s box and saw the disappointment etched on his face. As Warren landed and sat next to the coach, who did not look happy, he knew for certain that this was one of the side effects that the healer did not want to mention when he had woken up on that day.

:] Great post.
ohhh, for future reference, Quidditch should always be capitalized :]
<3

You're a very talented writer, Cinn. O'course I knew that 'cos of the RP!

Yes ma'am. *goes to edit* Thanks means a lot to me. Now...I think I'll sleep. Next post tomorrow night.

<333

Cinn is great.

Heya Cinn!

Great story....I'm waiting for more
*grabs a chair and picks up a magazine* C'mon! TOTALLY SUBSCRIBING...

The third part

Warren sat in front of the blazing fire in his father's office. It had been a terrible afternoon; the team had won of course, but he could not forget the look of utter disappointment on everyone's faces. He swirled the tumbler that contained firewhisky in his hand, what am I going to do now? Everything that I have worked for was aimed toward playing Quidditch. He sighed and sat back in his chair, staring into the fire as if mesmerized by it. Footsteps sounded outside of the door and Warren braced himself for the upcoming inquisition by his father. He never could stand weakness, not in his officials, not in his friends, not even in his family. If Warren hated anything about his father it was the way he pushed him until he either succeeded or killed himself trying. The door flew open and Warren flinched, heavy footsteps walked over to the desk in the corner and the sound of shifting papers filled the room through the tense silence. Ah, so he's going to pretend I don't exist now. Perhaps that is for the best. Lifting the tumbler to his lips he took a gulp and listened intently for the footsteps; they didn't sound.

"How could you do this?" Minister Rodemiere stood at his desk glaring at the back of his son's head just barely visible over the arm chair he was sitting in. He would not have noticed him if he hadn't started the fire and instead brooded in the cold. "How could you do this to our family?"

Warren grimaced slightly and took a much longer than necessary sip, oh that's low. He's using the "our family" routine. He set down the tumbler and turned the chair to face his father, "Surely you mean, how could I do this to you father. After all, if it had been you who was almost killed by a bludger, I'm sure you would have been playing a week later in perfect health." He rolled his eyes and turned the chair back toward the fire. "It's not like you wanted me to play the blighted sport in the first place; you should be happy."

Minister Rodemiere stood shocked at his son's outburst, it was completely out of character for him. Perhaps that blow to the head has changed more than just his inability to play Quidditch. "I only ever wanted what was best for you. Granted I thought that your talents could be put to better use in another field, but you excelled in Quidditch, and I cheered right along with the rest of them."

Warren put his tumbler on the table, stood up and turned to glare at his father. "Oh really, father. Funny how I remember overhearing a conversation between you and mother where, if I am not mistaken, you threatened to kick me out of the house if I played. You only cheered along with the rest of them, because you had to. So that you could save face for the next election, having a decent, Quidditch playing son would surely add to your vote count, I wager."

Minister Rodemiere stood clenching the papers in his hand, "That is not true and you know it." He took a shuddering breath as he let the anger wash over him, one of the many skills he had acquired since he had become minister. He turned back toward the table and began looking through the papers once more, "And what do you intend to do now?"

"Oh...I don't know. Hang around the ministry and bothering your officials seems like an ideal plan to me," Warren said viciously.

Minister Rodemiere turned back and looked thoughtfully at his son, "A good idea. You will earn your keep in my house. I shall make you an apprentice to my secretary. Come dressed for work on Monday." He nodded at his son and turned on his heal to walking out of his office.

"What?! I was just..." Warren yelled to his father's retreating form. "Blight it."

Oh, very good post Cinn. You're doing wonderfully & yes I must say that you're a great writer!