(A/N - Happy Summer, everyone! I'm finally out of school for the year, so that means more fanfiction fun all summer, with no homework interruption! Here's another story that I've had cooking around in my head for quite awhile. It's about Alastor Moody and his earlier Auror years, while Voldemort is at the height of his power. There's not much else I can say without giving anything away. This one's a little more on the dark side -- something new from me. PG-13 for mild to moderate violence, angst, language, and perhaps some sexual content later on. This should prove to be quite an interesting story... D Nearly everyone except Raven is the sweet goodness of JK Rowling, the literary genius whom we all know and envy. I mean, love. ^^; )

Lost Raven

"Raven." The cold, high-pitched drawl echoed painfully through the stone chamber. A normal human would have cringed at this icy voice, but Raven's ears were immune to the pain. She had heard it too many times.

"Raven." Again. His tone was playful and gracious, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not hide from her his malicious intent. Raven was knelt to the floor; her forehead inches from the freezing granite, strands of hair spread across her like an ebony wave.

"You've failed again. How many assignments does that make? You are getting lazy, my dear."

I'm not as stupid as you believe I am. Do you think you deceive me with your false pet names? Bastard. But Raven remained silent.

"However, I, your gracious Lord, will grant you one more chance to prove yourself. And you won't be unsuccessful, will you? After all I've done for you." A small piece of parchment floated in front of Raven's head.

Shit. Another one. Why don't you just kill me? The icy voice entered her head with an Imperio.

Take the parchment, Raven. Raven squinted her eyes shut. Perhaps she could fight it this time. Perhaps it would mean that he'd just use the last Unforgivable Curse on her. A done deal. God knows she'd been hit with the first two often enough.

TAKE THE PARCHMENT. A silent command. There was no way to block his voice from boring through her will. She was too weak. Raven reached up and took the parchment with a clenched, shaking hand. Streams of lime green burst from the parchment through the spaces between her fingers, creating a binding contract from the parchment to her soul. The voice in her head was gone.

"Now, was that so hard, sweet?" No answer.

"Crucio." The piercing, raging scream that shook the still air never reached the Dark Lord's ears as he disapparated; a puff of smoke snaking around Raven's cringing body, taunting her.

~~~

"I just know you'll make me proud, just like your father."

"Thank you, Mum. Goodbye." Mrs Moody brushed off a fleck of invisible dust from Alastor's work robes. He caught her hand, sensing her apprehension.

"I promise you, I'll be okay. Don't worry about me. Professor Dumbledore will contact you everyday on our... progress." Her smooth, veined hand clenched his callused, young palm softly. Too many calluses for an eighteen-year-old, Mrs. Moody thought. One for each battle he's ever had to fight.

"I just don't want you to end up like Father..."

"Don't talk of Dad. Only wish that I can be as noble as he was." And with that, Alastor apparated to his first day of work as an Auror.

The first impression Alastor got of his new colleagues was that they didn't look at all like Aurors. Before the first board meeting began, a kindly-looking lady in her fifties poured tea in the corner. Later, Alastor would learn that this 'kindly old lady' was Arabella Figg, a formidable fighter, feared by the few Death Eaters that lived after seeing her wrath. A few balding men stood to the side, chatting idly. Alastor was easily the only person under twenty, or even thirty, in the small room. A tall, dark haired man began the meeting.

"The Death Eaters are running rampant around the countryside! And what have we done about it? Nothing, by the looks of these statistics!" exclaimed Frank Longbottom. Frank was the sort of man who one respected with the first word out of his mouth. He was fuming now, bent over a map depicting the sites of the latest Death Eater attacks. "I've constructed small work teams, and have assigned them to different key Eaters. For our purposes, I've done some digging and I've found inside statistics on some of You-Know-Who's right-hand men. Not many, but enough to sink our teeth into."

Frank laid out portfolios for each group. Alastor searched for his name on a folder, but found nothing. Alastor fumed with rage, fists clenched tightly. Why did they exclude me? They think I'm some young fool?! I may be young, but I'm NOT naïve to the ways of the world! How will I avenge Father?

A strong hand guided him away from the rest of the group. It was Frank Longbottom. Alastor was ashamed of his anger immediately.

"Yes, sir?"

"I've got a special mission for you, youngster." A black portfolio was slipped into Alastor's hand. "I'll just say that your youth is an asset necessary for the task at hand; something none of these men have." Was that a faint smile on Frank's thin lips?

"Yessir."

Alastor pulled open the portfolio. A black-and-white picture of a young girl, probably sixteen, stared back at him with deadened eyes and a defiant stare. A beauty with the soul of a beast, Alastor thought. Her name was Raven, apparently. No last name? His eyes traveled down to "Mission Synopsis."

"The seduction and capture of said girl?!" exclaimed Alastor, his deep bass voice rumbling towards Frank.

"I told you youth would be helpful."