Sea Dog Mad-Eye
The sweltering heat of the midday summer sun dampened his brow with sweat as he woke. The day was still and reeked with the stench of a rotting body laying beside. He smirked with satisfaction, as he turned to see that even in a pitch black night, even though he had been terribly out numbered, he still managed to defeat his enemy relatively unscathed.
Alastor got himself to his feet, hoisting his potent victim over his shoulder before extracting a handkerchief from his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Dammit," he mumbled as he went to tuck away his sweat rag, noticing it wasn't the moister of sweat he was feeling, but blood still dripping from somewhere on his face. Still clutching the limp man by the collar of his cloak, Alastor poked his fingers to his face until it went deep into any empty eye socket. "You cost me my eye!" he growled, furiously tossing the dead body to the ground, whipping out his wand, and blowing the body into a millions, leaving a huge crater in the dirt.
Snorting with pleasure of the man's body falling to the ground as embers and ash, Alastor rolled his handkerchief into a ball and stuffing into his bloody socket and going on his way as if nothing. "What are you lookin' at?" he barked as a young girl passed by him on a local London street. The girl whimpered and jumped behind her father, a well dressed man carrying an expensive looking leather briefcase. The girl's eyed him with a disgusted expression as lifted his daughter up into his arms and sped away down the street. "That's right," Alastor shouted wildly, "run like the scared little boy you are!" Chuckling quietly, he noticed everyone on the street was staring with fearful and appalled faces, so he just growled deeply and kept walking.
Limping down the street, grumbling to himself about the poor respect people had for the ones who kept the lives of their families safe, Alastor plucked the bloody cloth from his eye socket and cleaned with his wand under his cloak, and stuffed it back in the hole left beneath his brow. "Excuse me mister?" He grunted in an annoyed curiosity as he felt a small hand tug on the base of his singed cloak. A little boy with fat cheeks sprinkled in dark brown freckles stared up at him with wide, excited green eyes. "Are you pirate?" the boy asked with a heavy lisp. Alastor sighed, rolling his one eye and realizing he resembled very much a pirate with one eye and a wooden leg he had stolen from the Minister's desk. He really wasn't in the mood, nor did he have the time to be playing, but Alastor was insane, not heartless. The boy appeared to be homeless; he face was covered in dirt, his clothes were tattered and two sizes too big, but his big eyes twinkled with the devilish and careless demeanor you'd find in even the richest and snottiest boy in the world.
Alastor smirked shoving his hand into his baggy vest so the boy wouldn't see him transform his hand into a hook to avoid trouble with the Ministry. "Arg!" he growled, waving the in the young boy's stoned face, "They call Sea Dog Mad-Eye!" The boy's face lit up with a huge toothless grin, as he stared at the rusty hook in a cross-eyed awe. "Don't ya be tellin' any'a mates, ya hear!" Alastor growled, pressing the hook to the boy's shoulder, "Or I'll have'ta slice off yer buttocks and hang'em up on the poop deck. Ya understand me, laddie?" The boy nodded, swallowing loudly. Alastor grunted, reaching into his pocket and pulled out a heavy bag of Euros and handing it to the boy, "Now go get yourself some meat and clothes that fit."
"Thanks Mad-Eyes!" the boy beamed, shoving the money into his boot.