A/N: Written for Term 3 at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizadry, assignment #12 (final) – Care of Magical Creatures.
The Back-Stunner
Someone was behind him.
His headmaster's paranoia came in handy at times, and this was one of them. He doubted he would have picked up the quiet crunch of grass otherwise. But his headmaster was paranoid and that paranoia tended to, especially on a trip like this, rub off on his students. And so Viktor had no problem in hearing the tell-tale signs of a stealthy approach.
And his Seeker reflexes were up to the task of catching a glimpse of the intruder, or so he thought. Instead, his wand went flying out of his hand before he saw the man – and with that limp and wooden leg, how could he have snuck up so quietly?
'Too slow,' Alastor Moody laughed. 'But it's to be expected. While you may be a world famous Seeker, you haven't seen much of the real world, have you?'
'Vhat do you mean?' asked Viktor suspiciously. He had heard about the man's somewhat unorthodox teaching methods, but… 'Ve Drumstrang students are not in your class.'
The man laughed again. 'Ah, but one student is easily dealt –'
They were cut off by the third man of their little company, Mr Crouch who'd straightened up and spotted the man, and cried out in alarm. 'No!' he cried. 'No!'
Viktor turned – the teacher might be half-mad but he was a teacher nonetheless. And it proved to be fatal. Not a mistake perhaps, because how to block the killing curse wasn't exactly common knowledge and he hadn't picked up his wand where it had flown anyway, but fatal nonetheless.
Mr Crouch crumbled soundlessly and Viktor whipped around in alarm, making a move as if to draw a wand that wasn't there. And he cursed when he spotted it. Too far to dodge a single spell and catch, with Moody's wand trained on him.
He'd duelled before. Learnt to duel. Maybe they'd tossed around some grey spells in the process, and some black ones. But never the killing curse. And never did they leave their wand trained on their opponent after they'd lost their own. His skin crawled and his hands twitched. He needed his wand. He didn't have it. 'Vot was that?' To his credit, his voice barely shook.
Alastor Moody grinned. It looked odd on his face. Like it didn't fit. 'That was a little revenge,' he said. 'And cleaning up some loose ends.'
Viktor found that no clearer than no answer at all. The tale of Moody and Crouch and Dumbledore was not unknown to him – and one could probably throw Snape and Karkaroff in there as well. In any case, he knew the Ministry Official had a son – a son that had rotted away and died in Azkaban after being convicted as a Death Eater. And that son was certainly not one of the Aurors instrumental in capturing said son.
The man laughed at his confusion, even if little of it could be seen, given the circumstances. 'Ah,' he said,' and to Viktor he sounded all the more like a wild man. 'What a tale it is.' His gaze turned upwards – but not far enough for Viktor to risk going for his wand. Not when the man was game to talk, anyhow. 'Unfortunately, company seems to be arriving, so we'll have to cut this chat – Stupefy!'
Viktor had taken the opportunity to go for his wand. The first spell missed him but the second struck as his fingers closed around the wood and he crumbled. And so he didn't hear the careless crunch of grass as Moody hobbled over to him and fired three more spells, then disappeared into the forest with the floating bone of the Ministry official he killed.
And when he was revived, memory of the last few minutes wiped clean and replaced with a neat little story that took the third presence entirely out of the equation, he exclaimed to his entourage: 'Crouch stunned me! That madman stunned me from behind!'
And though he had been both approached and stunned from behind, it wasn't Crouch that had done it. Or not the Crouch he thought, anyhow, because none of them had at that point imagined Moody being anyone other than who he claimed to be.