The Way Things Are
(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")
Because things are the way they are, things will not stay the way they are.
Bertold Brecht
Chapter One – Triumph
The first day of July had burst beautiful and warm over London, but the young woman walking down the street toward the public entrance to the Ministry of Magic wouldn't have cared if the city was experiencing a cloudburst of historic proportions. Not today!!
Nymphadora Tonks strode down the busy London street; a picture of energetic, confident young womanhood. There was a determination in her gait, firmness in her step, and power in her eye. And why not? No other young woman could boast of being the Ministry of Magic's newest qualified Auror.
As Tonks marched down the sidewalk, she smiled and reflected on the events of the past few days; both the lows and the highs.
When Tonks had heard that Rufus Scrimgeour and Gawain Robards were both sitting on her evaluation panel, she had assumed she was doomed. In Scrimgeour's mind, there were already two strikes against her: he hated the idea of female Aurors and he hated anything to do with Mad-Eye Moody.
With Robards, the Chief of Auror Training, she had three strikes: he felt the same about females and Moody, plus he was Rufus' number one toady. She felt the best plan was to withdraw her request for evaluation and resubmit it when these two throwbacks to the Dark Ages were on vacation.
Tonks still felt the thrill of gratitude she'd experienced when Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (and Scrimgeour's immediate supervisor) announced that she would be sitting as the third member of Tonks' evaluation panel.
Tonks had been overjoyed! She immediately saw Moody's hand in this turn of events and felt a new surge of affection for her battle-scarred mentor. Amelia was strict, but fair and insisted on fairness from her subordinates. In no way could Rufus and Robards pull any chauvinistic nonsense right under the perceptive eyes of Madam Bones.
So, she would get a fair shake. Now, all Tonks needed to do was focus everything she'd learned in seven years at Hogwarts and three years with Mad-Eye Moody into passing the most grueling job evaluation in the wizarding world.
Day One had consisted of reviewing the case reports filed by her and Moody over the past three years. Amelia, being results driven, had almost no comments because she and Moody had gotten results. Rufus and Gawain had chided her over certain techniques (non-standard, highly irregular, and untraditional had been their primary themes), but were ultimately reduced to petty hair-splitting and subdued Moody-bashing.
Day Two had been Deduction & Analysis where Tonks reviewed test cases, presented her conclusions to the panel, and then defended her deductions when grilled by the members. Robards attacked almost every inference she made, pompously expounding on theories of his own. Tonks had defended her conclusions with cool logic, although she once sassily quoted Moody 'follow where the clues lead; don't twist facts to reach the outcome you favor.' This comment reduced the Chief of Training to sputtering indignation. Presentation of the secret outcomes of the cases had proved her correct far more often than he.
Day Three had almost been a disaster. The morning's Tracking and Stealth exercise had been to follow a qualified Auror through the heart of London without being observed by him. Dawlish had been unable to shake her, but the three times she'd clumsily and noisily knocked over objects (which could have alerted her quarry) allowed Scrimgeour and Robards to deduct maximum points. Amelia, refusing to play favorites, had been harsh on her over that one, as well.
Thankfully, her performance in the afternoon's Disguise and Concealment drill had boosted her score back up. She'd been given a half-hour's head start, with instructions to disguise herself and conceal herself somewhere in the Ministry. Then, she had to elude Dawlish for the next two hours to achieve maximum points.
She had done Moody proud on that one: Tonks had shut the door to Scrimgeour's office, walked two feet to his secretary's desk, and paid Barbara three Galleons to take the afternoon off. She'd Metamorphed herself into an exact duplicate of Barbara (she'd been practicing three days for this one), Transfigured her outfit to match, and had whiled away the two hours answering the phone, filing, doing her nails, and, once, even serving the evaluators tea. Meanwhile Dawlish had raced all over the building in an increasingly agitated state
When the time was up and Robards used the Sonorous spell to call her in, she had set down the magazine she was looking at, stepped through the door, morphed to normal, and said "Auror Tonks reporting, sir!" Scrimgeour looked like he was in the throes of an apoplectic seizure, Robards could only stare at her stupidly with his mouth hanging open, and Amelia had laughed out loud and beamed at her.
Most Auror trainees dreaded the fourth day of the evaluation. This consisted of the Oral Examination, where the novice was grilled unmercifully by the panel on a broad variety of subjects. The Chief Auror relished this cross-examination so much, trainees called the sessions 'Scrimgeour's Skewer.'
But, Tonks had a secret weapon to deal with the Day Four ordeal: Mad-Eye's brilliant, if eccentric, collection of friends and acquaintances.
During the spring, he had shepherded her on a whirlwind tour of these great minds: a session through all the Hogwarts greenhouses with Professor Sprout to bone up on Herbology.
Next had been a few fierce question and answer conferences on Potions with Professor Horace Slughorn who had taught, not only Moody, but Tonks' mother and Professor Snape, her own Potions master. Slughorn was genial and kind; although, he did seem to want to dwell on Tonks' family connections with the Blacks, a sore subject with the young Auror. However, Tonks had swallowed her irritation and soon discovered that Slughorn knew more about potions than anyone she'd ever met. She also found him generous and convivial; at least, if he liked you.
The visits continued: there had been covert seminars with Thurgood Augustine, the Head of the Department of Mysteries and one of Tonks' favorite people in the whole world. Tonks thought Augie knew more of magical theory and the obscure branches of magic than even Dumbledore. What's more, the old man's perpetual cheerfulness and warm laugh were a constant delight to Tonks.
There had been lectures provided on magical creatures and magical history by Lord Edward Burton, Moody's old classmate and the foremost expert on both subjects in the world. The short, gruff, cantankerous nobleman had been relentless in his training, treating every error in Tonks' recitations as a personal affront.
But, the absolute highlight, the gem of this preparation excursion had been the four days the Aurors had spent at the modest country estate of Millicent Bagnold, former Minister of Magic, Tonks' personal hero, and Moody's former classmate and current soul mate (and secretly, his lover). The Minister had personally coached Tonks on both legal and political matters, beaming with pride as Tonks recited back the day's lessons. Lunches and dinners had been spent by the three of them sitting at the table with Millicent regaling wonderful anecdotes from her career, or the two older folk reminiscing out loud about events or persons both famous and infamous. This, to Tonks, was nearly Heaven.
With this formidable lineup behind her, Tonks had brutalized Scrimgeour and Robards during the exam. Not one vague factoid or esoteric subject had been beyond her. Amelia Bones had actually gawked in amazement as Tonks addressed herself to every question with immediacy and depth of knowledge.
"Well, Tonks" the older witch had commented at the end of the session, "at this rate, we'll be putting you on the Wizengamont within 5 years." Madam Bones had swept out of the room, leaving a stunned young witch and two shocked older wizards behind her.
The Fifth Day final had been the exercise in Apprehension and Defensive Magic. Tonks had to run a gauntlet of five fully-qualified Aurors, countering their attacks and rendering them helpless, but unharmed. Disposing of Savage, Proudfoot, Williamson and Shacklebolt with dispatch (that last had been very chancy: when she and Kingsley had practice dueled, they were evenly matched); she had relished downing Dawlish with a final flourish that bested Dawlish's Auror evaluation record by 5 minutes.
When the afternoon's public address announcements had included the news (announced by Cornelius Fudge himself) that Nymphadora Tonks, having passed her evaluation with distinction, was now a fully-qualified Auror, with all the privileges and honors commensurate to the position, she thought her heart would burst with joy and pride.
That same joy and pride still permeated her entire demeanor as Tonks approached the Visitors' Entrance to the Ministry. She knew she had Aurors' privileges now and could have apparated directly into the Atrium, but she felt that, this first day at any rate, making her appearance via the Visitors' Entrance was appropriate.
The Visitors' Entrance was located in a payphone outside on the sidewalk. Stepping inside and shutting the door, she dropped in a couple of Muggle coins and punched in the entrance code, 62442. The voice of the Operator echoed in the small space, "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
"Nymphadora Tonks . . . Auror" she declared with pleasure.
"Of course" the disembodied voice replied. "Welcome, Auror Tonks. No badge required." Slowly, the box began to descend through the ground into the lobby.
The Way Things Are
(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")
Chapter Two – Upheaval
As the phone box softly touched down, Tonks stepped out into the arrival hallway that led into the Atrium. She glided past the lines of gilded fireplaces, one side for arrivals, one for departures.
Tonks had always enjoyed the Atrium, with its ceiling of peacock blue with golden symbols moving over it; the floor of polished dark wood and the Fountain of Magical Brethren. She paused to marvel at the golden statues of a wizard, a witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf, all which were spouting water from various locales into the pool of water below. For the first time, Tonks thought, I really belong here.
As she turned toward the golden gates that framed the entry to the lifts, Tonks began to notice that the atmosphere in the Ministry was subtly changed this morning. In place of the normal bustle and chatter, she saw people standing about in groups of two or three and chatting in soft, controlled voices. She also noticed furtive glances being cast over shoulders or quick looks out the corners of eyes. The whole place seemed to be on edge.
Her curiosity piqued, Tonks strolled towards the lifts. At the gates, the on-duty security guard, Eric Munch nodded and waved her through without a word. That's odd, she thought. Eric's usually good for a word, a bit of gossip, or a cheeky inquiry about the state of my love life. What can be the matter?
Tonks stepped up to the nearest lift when the doors suddenly burst open. Standing inside were her two tormentors of the previous week: Rufus Scrimgeour and Gawain Robards. But, she'd never seen them like this!
Scrimgeour was unsteady, pressing a folded cloth to his left eye, and leaning heavily on Robards' shoulder. Robards was bearing up, patting Scrimgeour's back and saying ". . . never set foot in the Ministry again. The idea of such barbaric behavior . . ." It was at this moment that Scrimgeour spied Tonks.
The change was electric: Scrimgeour went from wounded victim to guard dog on alert in a heartbeat. The glare from his uncovered eye should have burned a hole right through her. Robards, sensing the change in his supervisor, followed his gaze and turned instantly frozen when he perceived her.
Without a word, the pair bundled past her into the Atrium. What did I do, now? she thought. And what in the world happened to Rufus?
Shaking her head, Tonks stepped onto the lift and rode to the second floor, home of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Aurors' Office, her new place of business.
As she stepped off, Tonks felt that the normal bustle of the Ministry had all been shoveled onto this floor. In fact, she saw secretaries and assistants flying about in an outright panic. She stood rooted, staring all about her at the chaos reigning in the normally well-controlled office, when she noticed Amelia Bones bearing down on her with unaccustomed haste.
"Oh, Tonks! Thank Heavens, you're here" the chief law enforcer of the wizarding community practically wailed. "Maybe you can stop him! Come on!"
Madam Bones, who had never been more than professionally polite to Tonks before, grabbed the young Auror by the arm and began dragging her toward the Aurors' Office. As she pulled, she was babbling in near hysterics: "I so hope this works . . . I'm sure you'll succeed . . . I, Cornelius, even Albus; none of us have the influence you have . . ."
"But . . . wait . . . Madam Bones, please" Tonks practically hollered, bringing the older witch to a halt. "What am I doing you couldn't? And what does Professor Dumbledore have to do with . . . whatever's going on?"
"Oh, we notified Albus as soon as we could; he tried, but to no avail! He's in with the Minister right now . . ." Tonks was shocked to see one of the witches she respected most standing there looking lost and scared.
"Please, Amelia, you must tell me" Tonks practically begged. "What happened?"
Amelia Bones looked at Tonks blankly for a moment, and then, astonishingly, drew a hanky from robes and began wiping her eyes. "Oh, Tonks; I'm so sorry. I forgot you'd only just now arrived. You must think I'm a total ninny."
Before Tonks could plead she believed nothing of the kind, Amelia pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her robes and handed it to the Auror.
Tonks looked a question at Madam Bones, glanced at the note . . . and felt as if she'd just been clouted in the face with a large club.
The single sentence on the paper, scrawled in that familiar script was short and terse:
Effective 1 July 1994, I hereby voluntarily retire from the Ministry of Magic.
[Signed] Alastor Moody
Tonks looked up at Amelia in open-mouthed shock. "This is a joke, right? You're all having me on, on my first day as an Auror?" Her eyes pleaded with Amelia to confirm this thought, but received only tear-filled hopelessness.
Suddenly, she remembered something else. "What happened to Scrimgeour?"
"Oh; Alastor delivered the news to Rufus personally and rather . . . emphatically, I'm afraid" Madam Bones almost chuckled as she held up her right fist. "That's what set the whole incident off. I've talked to him; so have Arthur Weasley, the Minister, Kingsley, and even Dumbledore." She shook her head sadly. "None of us can budge him."
She wiped her eyes one more time and gazed at Tonks again. "I do so hate to put this on you, Nymphadora; but, you're our last hope of changing his mind."
Tonks looked at her superior, glanced at the note and whispered: "Where is he?"
"In his cubicle" Madam Bones replied with an air of relief, "Cleaning out his desk."
Tonks gathered herself together, set both her jaw and her shoulders, and marched towards the Aurors' Office.
He was standing over the desk that had been assigned to him, but had rarely been used. Moody had his wooden staff leaning against the partition; there was a small carton on the desk, and he was methodically rooting through an open desk drawer. A couple of items went into the box; most of the drawer's contents were pitched into a nearby dustbin.
Tonks marched to his desk, slapped the resignation on the desk, glared at her mentor with her hands on her hips and thundered: "What's the meaning of this?"
Moody slowly stopped, looked at the note, and growled: "You're usually quicker at coming to conclusions, Dora. The meaning should be perfectly clear."
"Don't play word games with me, Mad-Eye. I want an explanation. Why are you doing this?"
Moody moved on to another drawer, not looking at the furious young woman. "I should have done it long ago. The Ministry's changed; too self-serving, less public-serving. I need to get out before I drown in paper."
"Don't give me that! I've been doing all our paperwork for the past two years and you damned well know it!" She folded her arms and glared at him dangerously. "I thought we were a team."
"We are . . . were. One of the best the Ministry's ever seen" he snarled. "But, you're qualified now. You don't need some old has-been hanging about."
"I'll decide what I need or don't need, Alastor Moody" she snarled back, in her best 'Mum' voice. "As for being a has-been, I'll never be half the Auror you are."
"You're not as cold-blooded as I am, Tonks" he continued to shuffle through the desk. "In a life-or-death battle, that could cost you some day." He paused, taking a deep breath. "But, you will be one of the greatest Aurors this office has ever seen."
"I've already seen the greatest Auror" Tonks replied quietly. "I've seen him for three years and I need to keep seeing him."
Moody paused again, then reached into the carton and pulled out a Sneak-o-scope and handed it to Tonks. "Here" he grumbled "an Auror can't start collecting Dark detectors too early."
She took the scope and let her arm fall to her side. "Mad-Eye, did you hear me?"
He paused and let his head slump slightly. "I wish it could be that way, Dora. But, I've got nothing left to give."
"Moody" she said in a pleading voice, "The Ministry needs you . . . the wizarding world needs you . . . and I need you, worst of all."
He stopped, then closed the desk drawers and folded the top of the carton closed.
"Moody . . . I'm begging you! Please, don't do this!"
For one glorious moment, she saw him hesitate. Pain creased his brow, he took a quick breath and his whole frame seemed to tremble. He's going to give in, she thought. He wants to say he'll stay.
Then, quickly, the moment passed. Moody's shoulders slumped and he sighed heavily. Raising his head, he looked at his former protégé and she felt her worst shock in a day filled with them.
Gazing out of that one shiny black eye was not the expression of the powerful Auror she'd come to know and admire. She was not trading glares with a warrior, detective, or hero. Looking out of that eye was a lost little boy.
Then, Moody looked at the ground and didn't raise his eyes again. "I'm sorry" he growled. He patted her shoulder and said "Goodbye, Nymphadora." Picking up the box under one arm and his staff with the other hand, Alastor Moody stumped out of the Aurors' Office for the last time. He never looked back.
Nymphadora Tonks stood silently beside the empty desk, a cheap Sneak-o-scope held in the palm of her right hand, staring after the man who, for three years, had been her teacher, leader, confidant, and friend. More, Moody had been her rock, her anchor; the scarred, growling constant in a world of danger, mystery, and stress.
She stood silently, for a moment. And then . . .
Tonks exploded; with all the force of her strong right arm, she heaved the Sneak-o-scope into the wall, causing Moody's souvenir to shatter into a hundred fragments. At the same time, she was screaming at the top of her lungs: "DON'T CALL ME NYMPHADORA, YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!!!!!"
The Way Things Are
(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")
Chapter Three – Refuge
The attic storage rooms of the Ministry of Magic offered a quiet fastness and isolation that Tonks had frequently found comfortable; conducive to introspection and meditation. Where others might see only shadows, dust, cobwebs, and covered furniture; Tonks found a refuge of solitude from the stress and exasperation of the Ministry proper. Here, she found a calm silence that provided a momentary escape from confusion and pain.
She had appropriated her favorite abandoned office chair and was rocking back and forth to the rhythm of her thoughts: "How could he . . . how could he . . . how could he do this to me???"
A slight creaking of floor boards off to her right interrupted her reverie and she was astonished as the room's solitary shaft of sunlight revealed the figure of Albus Dumbledore.
"I don't want to intrude, Nymphadora. If you prefer to grieve alone, I will certainly respect your privacy and depart."
Opening her mouth to hastily agree and order Dumbledore off, Tonks was surprised to hear her voice say: "Please don't, Professor."
Dumbledore nodded and pulled up another chair to seat himself across from his former pupil.
"How did you know I was here, Professor? Have you been searching for me?"
"No; I sensed your pain. It drew me to you." Dumbledore sighed, "A most momentous day, in many ways."
He raised his eyes and smiled at the young woman. "First, allow me to offer my congratulations on your splendid performance on your evaluation. You must visit Hogwarts very soon, so Professor Sprout can gush over you properly."
Tonks barely grunted an acknowledgment; right now, being a full-fledged Auror had lost a lot of its appeal.
"Ah, Nymphadora; I see you are determined to dwell on Alastor and his actions."
"I can't help it, Professor! I'm sorry, but I can't understand this decision and I'll never forgive him." She pounded her fists on the chair arms in rage, raising a cloud of dust. "It's like he was just waiting to get rid of me, so he could walk out on the Ministry."
Dumbledore studied the angry Auror over the top of his glasses. "Do you truly believe that's why he did it; to hurt you?" the Headmaster asked quietly.
Tonks readied an irritated retort, but never voiced it. She felt much of her anger, frustration and hurt whither under Dumbledore's calm gaze. She dropped her eyes, shook her head, and whispered "No, Professor."
"And you are correct, Nymphadora. You have been the most important element of Alastor's life for these last three years."
Tonks smiled. "I remember every day, vividly. He made this the most incredible three years of my life." She looked up at Dumbledore, a wistful expression on her face. "I especially remember when we first met."
"At the beginning, he thought I was some flighty, little air-head and I thought he was a miserable old bastard." Tonks suddenly smiled and chuckled. "Now, after 3 years of working with him . . . I know for a fact he's a miserable old bastard!!! . . ." her voice dropped to a husky whisper ". . . and, I couldn't love him more if he were my own father."
"And he loves you, Nymphadora" Dumbledore purred. As she glanced sharply at the Headmaster, he nodded solemnly. "Oh, yes; although you may be feeling abandoned and betrayed by your mentor at the moment . . . he looks upon you as the daughter he never had. And he has expounded on your numerous virtues and triumphs, over many a pint with myself, Pomona, and others at Madam Rosemerta's, with nothing less than parental pride."
Dumbledore paused, as though making a mental calculation, and then looked seriously into Tonks' eyes. "And it is that love that you bear him, Nymphadora, which he will need to sustain him in the difficult times ahead."
Tonks looked at the Headmaster, puzzlement written across her face. "Difficult times, Professor? What difficult times? I thought, now I'm fully qualified, our partnership would get easier." She paused, as another thought struck her.
She remembered the fleeting look on Mad-eye's face just before he left the office. "It's just that, I never thought I'd see him so . . ." she groped fervently for the right word; "so . . . diminished!"
"Alas," Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I worry that the Alastor Moody you and I have known, and respected, these many years, is no more. What remains is but a shell of that mighty Auror."
Tonks stared at the Professor in horror. "Professor, what happened to Moody?"
"I fear he has taken a mortal blow to his warrior's heart. And it is the heart that makes the warrior: the physical prowess, the mental acumen, the spirit and drive that keep them going where lesser beings would capitulate; all are anchored in the heart. And, now, that anchor has been irreparably damaged and the parts are adrift." Again, he shook his head sadly.
Tonks continued to stare in shock. She repeated "What happened?"
Dumbledore seemed to ruminate for a short time, and then rose wearily to his feet. "I believe that, if anyone has the right to know, it is you, Nymphadora. You hold such a prominent place in his heart; you and he share life and death experiences and mutual love and respect; and you can stir him with humor, affection, and all of the emotions that are suppressed in him now."
The Headmaster reached into his robes, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and extended it to the young Auror. "When I spoke with Alastor earlier, urging him to reconsider, this dropped out of his pocket and onto his desk. I pointed this out and he said for me to keep it as" and, here, Dumbledore dropped his voice into a gravelly snarl "'I never want to see the bloody thing again'." He shook his head again. "Besides, The Daily Prophet will be hawking the news shortly."
As Tonks hesitantly took the missive from Dumbledore, he said "Give him some time, Nymphadora, and then go to him. He needs you now, more than ever. I will visit him myself in about two weeks, to offer him a position at Hogwarts." He smiled at the young woman. "Your splendid results this week prove how effective a teacher Alastor can be."
Dumbledore patted her shoulder affectionately and turned to go. He stopped a few paces away and looked back. "Understanding is the first step towards acceptance. Understand him, Nymphadora. It is the best way you can help."
He smiled, nodded, turned into the shadows and was gone.
Tonks looked after the departed educator a moment, and then stared at the document folded in her grasp. Then, calmly and decisively, she opened it, spread it on her leg, and read.
She read it once . . . then again . . . then, a third time. NO; no, this could not be!!!
She felt like she had been punched in the stomach. She looked again; the message remained unchanged.
"Oh, Moody" she sobbed. "Oh, Moody . . . you should have told me! So I could hug you."
She could only sit there and cry; fresh tears streaming down her cheeks and falling like rain on that paper; that horrible, monstrous piece of paper that had devastated her world and succeeded (where so many Dark wizards and fell beasts had failed) in destroying the greatest Auror the world had ever known:
1 July, 1994
Dear Mr. Moody,
In accordance with her wishes, it is with deepest regret that I must inform you of the passing of Millicent Elizabeth Bagnold at 3:45 a.m. GMT this morning. Madam Bagnold succumbed, peacefully in her sleep, to the terminal illness she had been battling for the last year. The prayers and condolences of the entire staff of St. Mungo's are with you at this time of loss.
Cecil J. Arbuthnott
Chief Administrator
St. Mungo's Hospital
The Way Things Are
(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")
Chapter Four – Epilog
Alastor Moody slumped in his father's old armchair, staring into the cold, barren fireplace without really seeing it.
This had been the major part of his routine since he'd abruptly resigned his post and left the Ministry for good.
He rose whenever his body could no longer stand to lie abed. He'd dress in whatever was handy; slouch into the kitchen and prepare a meal (if he found the energy and inclination, which was rare); whenever he did remember to eat or drink, the repast was as tasteless as cardboard to him. Sometime after dark, he'd lurch into his bedroom, drop his clothes where he stood (if he bothered to undress at all), and lie on the bed, staring at the weathered plaster of the ceiling until overwhelmed by pure exhaustion.
This had been the pattern of his days for the past two weeks; not really living, merely existing. He felt a great, hollow ache in the center of his being. He knew what it was, but had no idea how to combat it. This was one foe he had never prepared to fight.
So, he would sleepwalk through the days and nights: observing nothing, thinking nothing, saying nothing; a shell of a man filled to the brim with confusion and pain that he was not equipped to deal with.
Now, he was again leaning back in his father's faded, threadworm armchair. His feet were flat on the floor, his arms dangled down on either side of his seat; he stared straight ahead and saw nothing. But, today, his routine was interrupted.
It took all of five seconds for the jangling of alarm bells to break into his stupor, but, eventually, his survival instincts were able to overcome his melancholy.
Someone had just crossed the barrier he had woven about his house, he realized. Someone was creeping up on him without announcing themselves first, and that generally meant trouble.
He heaved himself out of his chair, quick-drawing his wand from inside his cloak and starting for the door. Trouble; he'd relish a spot of trouble right now, he snarled to himself. A chance to lash out, to punish, to inflict some agony on someone else; maybe that would decrease his own agony.
Or, perhaps, he'd be killed in the battle. That was fine, he thought; I've precious little to live for, anyway. He'd welcome the end: the end of hurting, the end of sorrow, and the end of waking everyday to the fleeting wish that it was all a mistake somehow.
His jumbled rumination was brought to a halt by a strong, confident knock on his door.
What the hell is this? Death Eaters never knock; they blast through the door, firing curses in front of them. Who the hell could it be?
Without lowering his wand, he focused his magical eye on the front door, directing the unique, powerful orb to show him what was on the other side of that door. What he saw caused him to jerk back with a start.
Hastily jamming his wand in his robes, Moody crossed the room in two strides, twisted the door handle, and yanked the door open, finding himself face-to-face with Nymphadora Tonks!
For a heartbeat, the two Aurors looked at each other silently, tears leaking down Tonks' cheeks. Then, still without a word, the young witch stepped across the threshold and threw her arms around her mentor in the most powerful bear hug she could manage.
Moody felt his arms close about his protégé reflexively. His head suddenly drooped on its neck and rested on her shoulder. He felt her burying her face into his chest and shaking slightly with sobs.
This wasn't right! He shouldn't be hugging Tonks! And she shouldn't be crying! Tonks was happy, lively, and full of energy and spirit; she should never be sad and . . .
Suddenly, she raised her face to his, looked into his remaining eye with her two tear-filled ones, and softly snarled "Don't ever walk out on me again . . . you old bastard!"
She then planted a firm, wet kiss on Moody's seamed, craggy cheek and returned to the business of hugging him for all she was worth.
Moody stood there; embracing his surrogate daughter, feeling something inside him start to loosen, feeling a small spark of the old spirit he'd last felt when he'd put Scrimgeour on his arse.
He'd found the warm, soft center of his world again, which he'd thought lost for good. He felt a stinging sensation in his good eye, a feeling he'd not experienced in years. Nothing could ever replace Millie, he knew, but; just maybe; being Dora's dad could come close.