Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor his magical world.
A/N: This was written for the "Not-So-Heroic Death" Challenge set by astronauts. My prompt was Suicide, which I despise as a prompt and thus accept as a challenge.
A Coward at Best
Mungdungus Fletcher stumbled, falling against the ground, his heart racing and a cold sweat seeping through his itchy sweater vest. He scooted himself against the side of a building, hiding himself amongst spilled trash cans and empty boxes. He looked around cautiously. His fear had brought him to apparate into the alleyway behind his favorite Muggle pub. He breathed shakily. He knew that letting himself be coerced into the Order of the Phoenix wouldn't be exactly good for his safety, but he had not expected to be tailed by Death Eaters—by You-Know-Who himself—while flying three hundred feet in the air.
He had bolted—had apparated away at the sight of those burning red eyes. Self-preservation—that was the only thing he had left. He couldn't understand the Order. He didn't understand how they could risk so much for one boy. Sure, he was willing to help Harry Potter against you know who, but he certainly refused to end up dead for it.
He needed a drink. He pulled himself up and dragged himself around to the pub entrance. As Mungdungus entered the pub the clientele gave him odd looks, but this wasn't really a place where anyone would bother you…too much. "Whiskey," he croaked, approaching the bar.
The bar tender grinned and spoke to a grizzled old man seated at the bar, "Hear that Frank? The boy wants a whiskey!"
The bar tender set a large mug in front of him, as if taunting him, hoping to scare him off. Mungdungus picked up the mug and drank the contents in a single swallow. The bartender and Frank didn't bother him after that.
He stayed in the pub all night. When dawn cracked he slowly made his way to Diagon Alley. He got himself a room off the main street, but went to the Leaky Cauldron to see if he could pick up any news. He sat in a corner with a cup of tea, keenly listening while pretending to read a Witch Weekly article. The whispers were abundant that day.
"You-know-who got him!"
"No, no, I hear he just went out for a bit of a fly—got hit by one of those Muggle contraptions."
"I heard it was an ex-wife."
"Moody was never married!"
"That shows what you know!"
It didn't take Mungdungus too long to realize what everyone was talking about…Mad-Eye Moody was dead. For Mungdungus this meant that the only two people who had ever believed in him were dead. Dumbledore, who had been killed months before and Mad-Eye, who Mungdungus had left to face death.
Mungdungus stared into he cup, unable to budge. Suddenly everything felt sour. Last night no longer felt like merely an act of "self-preservation." Mundungus was a coward. He had always know it, but had never had to face it as he did now.
[Many months later]
All the Order members had been called to Hogwarts. Mungdungus really did not want to go—he had a very hard time dragging himself outside of his flat these days. It was not as if he had any friends among the Order anyway; they all knew he was a coward, not to mention a thief. But, still, duty called for him and he apparated into Hogshead. No one noticed that he was there. Not to say that that was unusual, nobody really paid any attention to him after Mad-Eye's death. Despite this, he still felt like he was supposed to be there.
Some Order member briefed them all quickly before leading them through the secret pass way into Hogwarts. Mungdungus paid little attention—something about Death Eaters, something about You-Know-Who and something about Harry Potter. Something about possibly dying. Mungdungus followed the others through the passage way, landing him in the chaos at the other end.
After what felt like hours of useless fighting and running around the Death Eaters were closing in on Hogwarts. Spells shot in every direction. Everything was going to be lost, just as Mad-Eye and Dumbledore were; he knew it. Mungdungus should have been afraid—he was a coward after all. But he didn't run, he didn't try to hide, he didn't even duck. He wasn't really feeling too much. To his left Bill Weasley was dueling with Alecto Carrow, to his right Arthur Weasley was dueling with Rastaban Lestrange. It was just a slight move in either direction and he would be in direct line of fire. He wondered what it would be like to touch one of those blazingly bright spells speeding past him. He wondered if it would end everything. Just maybe.
Mungdungus Fletcher moved to his right as he saw a green light about to speed past him. "Dung!" was the last thing he heard.
...
Several Order members stood around. It was all over—but still they felt no solace.
"Tonks is gone, as is Remus," said Kingsley, hardly able to choke out the words.
"So is Mungdungus," said Arthur.
"Dung? Are you sure. He would never be caught in the middle of a fight! He would turn tail and—" said Ron Weasley, before Arthur Weasley cut him off.
"Mungdungus Fletcher saved my life. He took a curse for me."
There was silence.
Kinglsey finally broke it and said solemnly, "To Mungdungus Fletcher—braver than we all gave him credit for."