Disclaimer: I do not own anything regarding Harry Potter or Highlander
It was a sight to see, if there was anyone in the deserted back streets of London. Two men running. One medium sized over-weight gentleman, who looked like he was fifty years old, carrying a sword and a handgun in his hands chasing a tall younger man, who was also carrying a sword in his hand.
The younger man ducked into an alleyway and leaned against the wall catching his breath. His hazel eyes were flashing in anger. His aristocratic features were marred by a sneer.
He heard the heavy breathing and heavy footsteps of the other man approaching closer. He cursed under his breath and thought, "Imagine me, Methos, the oldest immortal ever, one of the Four Horsemen, hiding from a young whelp. Damn him for not playing fair. If he thinks that he can take my head by cheating, he has another thing coming."
Methos heard a gun shot and felt the bullet ricochet off the wall next to his right shoulder.
Methos started running again. Down the alley he spotted a tavern entrance. "The tavern is still open, thank the Gods." Methos thought.
As he ran to the tavern, Methos stuck his sword into the inner pocket of his long black overcoat. Methos bolted past two gentlemen wearing strange cloaks, through the door and hid himself near a window to see if the other immortal would follow him in.
Methos was oblivious that the tavern became silent as he watched the other immortal stumble down the alleyway to the front of the tavern. Then something strange happened. The other immortal started turning around in circles until he was once again staring at the tavern. A confused look was on the other immortal's face.
The other immortal started running to the dumpsters, turning them over and kicking over large cardboard boxes. "Why is he looking through the trash?" Methos thought. "Why isn't he going through the door?"
A scream of outrage was heard from the other immortal and Methos saw him walking back through the alleyway he came from dejected.
Methos sighed in relief and turned away from the window to see all the faces in the tavern staring at him, some with a curious expression and some with hatred.
Methos took in their strange clothing and looked around and saw paintings that moved and, what is this, sticks in the hands of the patrons. "Wands!!!" Methos exclaimed inside his head. "I have stumbled into the wizard world."
Methos smiled to himself. "How long has it been since he lived in the world of magic? 800-900 years?"
"I cannot go home as the other immortal knows where I live." Methos thought. "I might as well stay here for awhile."
Methos walked up to the bar.
"Can I help you?" The barman asked.
Methos reached into one of his inner pockets of his overcoat and took out what he swore he would never use again but was never able to part with, his wand, and placed it on the bar. 18 inches, maple, with a phoenix feather and a vial of his blood in the center and a personal touch, a silver snake encircling the lower half of the wand.
The patrons of the tavern gasped. Who was this man who was wearing obvious muggle clothing carrying a wand such as that.
"I would like a room to stay for an extended period of time." Methos requested.
The barman took out a key from one of the slots behind him and quoted a price. Methos advised him that he did not have any wizard money on him, but will return that morning after the bank opened. The barman nodded in agreement.
"What is your name?" The barman asked.
"Adam." Methos responded. "Adam...(what was the name I used in the wizard world... oh yes) Adam Salazar Slytherin."
It was a sight to see, if there was anyone in the deserted back streets of London. Two men running. One medium sized over-weight gentleman, who looked like he was fifty years old, carrying a sword and a handgun in his hands chasing a tall younger man, who was also carrying a sword in his hand.
The younger man ducked into an alleyway and leaned against the wall catching his breath. His hazel eyes were flashing in anger. His aristocratic features were marred by a sneer.
He heard the heavy breathing and heavy footsteps of the other man approaching closer. He cursed under his breath and thought, "Imagine me, Methos, the oldest immortal ever, one of the Four Horsemen, hiding from a young whelp. Damn him for not playing fair. If he thinks that he can take my head by cheating, he has another thing coming."
Methos heard a gun shot and felt the bullet ricochet off the wall next to his right shoulder.
Methos started running again. Down the alley he spotted a tavern entrance. "The tavern is still open, thank the Gods." Methos thought.
As he ran to the tavern, Methos stuck his sword into the inner pocket of his long black overcoat. Methos bolted past two gentlemen wearing strange cloaks, through the door and hid himself near a window to see if the other immortal would follow him in.
Methos was oblivious that the tavern became silent as he watched the other immortal stumble down the alleyway to the front of the tavern. Then something strange happened. The other immortal started turning around in circles until he was once again staring at the tavern. A confused look was on the other immortal's face.
The other immortal started running to the dumpsters, turning them over and kicking over large cardboard boxes. "Why is he looking through the trash?" Methos thought. "Why isn't he going through the door?"
A scream of outrage was heard from the other immortal and Methos saw him walking back through the alleyway he came from dejected.
Methos sighed in relief and turned away from the window to see all the faces in the tavern staring at him, some with a curious expression and some with hatred.
Methos took in their strange clothing and looked around and saw paintings that moved and, what is this, sticks in the hands of the patrons. "Wands!!!" Methos exclaimed inside his head. "I have stumbled into the wizard world."
Methos smiled to himself. "How long has it been since he lived in the world of magic? 800-900 years?"
"I cannot go home as the other immortal knows where I live." Methos thought. "I might as well stay here for awhile."
Methos walked up to the bar.
"Can I help you?" The barman asked.
Methos reached into one of his inner pockets of his overcoat and took out what he swore he would never use again but was never able to part with, his wand, and placed it on the bar. 18 inches, maple, with a phoenix feather and a vial of his blood in the center and a personal touch, a silver snake encircling the lower half of the wand.
The patrons of the tavern gasped. Who was this man who was wearing obvious muggle clothing carrying a wand such as that.
"I would like a room to stay for an extended period of time." Methos requested.
The barman took out a key from one of the slots behind him and quoted a price. Methos advised him that he did not have any wizard money on him, but will return that morning after the bank opened. The barman nodded in agreement.
"What is your name?" The barman asked.
"Adam." Methos responded. "Adam...(what was the name I used in the wizard world... oh yes) Adam Salazar Slytherin."