Chapter 2: What Was Lost Has Been Found

Alastor walked briskly down the street hoping physical distance between himself and his mother would alleviate his blinding anger. Somewhere he could hear people singing Christmas carols.

Silent night, holy night

He stopped walking. Under the light of the moon

All is calm, all is bright

he pulled the parchment from his pocket.

Round yon Virgin Mother and child

There was an address written in Muk's spidery scrawl. He stared at it for some time.

Holy Infant, so tender and mild

He ran into an ally so the Muggles couldn't see him disapparate.

pop

He then apparated into a seedy part of London outside of a small house. It was a squat building of mismatched colors like a patchwork of boards hung together precariously. One of the grimy windows was cracked. He rang the bell and studied the sign which read "Woodshead Orphan Asylum." He shuddered when he peered inside with his magical eye and pulled his bowler hat down lower. Presently, the matron of the house opened the door. She was a middle aged Muggle with sparse brown hair streaked with grey. She wore a simple blue dress with a dingy white apron. Her face looked tired and warn, but her eyes brightened when she saw the strange man on her doorstep. Remember, this was many years ago and Moody wasn't quite so scarred yet. He was actually not bad looking.

"Merry Christmas to ye, sir. Have ye lost your way?" she asked.

Dispensing with pleasantries, Alastor came right to the point. "I've reason to believe my daughter is here." He decided it would be wiser to fabricate a tale more plausible than the truth. A Muggle would never fathom a brother and sister so far apart in age and he wasn't sure he could take the girl if the lady thought they weren't father and daughter.

"S'that so?," she slurred. "Well, come on in then, honey."

The main room had ten tiny beds in two rows. They were the flimsy metal fold out variety and each had a blanket. That is to say, something that was meant to serve as a blanket. They were badly in need of the rubbish bin. The idea of a mending would be a mere flight of fancy. Several wide eyed children watched him. He unsuccessfully tried to look past them without his heart noticing. There she was, crouched on the floor beside the farthest bed. She was smaller than your average four year old. Her mess of coal black hair was badly matted, her dress was torn and dirty, and her face was smeared with grime, dried tears, and snot. This was Alastor's jewel, his baby sister.

He had named her himself. Their mother only called her "monster," or "abomination." Their father only shrugged when Alastor asked what they'd named her and didn't object when Alastor christened her "Madeline," as a sort of affectionate variation of his nickname, "Mad-Eye," and "Esther," after a particularly brave woman in the Old Testament.

She leaped to her feet to go to her brother, but she was stopped short by the rope tying her leg to the bed. He hurried over and crouched down to embrace her.

"Well, ye see, she kept trying to escape...er...run away and it's as cold as...it was for her own protection, ye see," explained the woman clumsily.

Alastor ignored the matron's explanation and passed his hand over the rope, magically untying it without the woman noticing how he did it. There was raw red skin encircling Madeline's ankle. Alastor lifted her up.

Defensively, the matron continued, "She already had the bruises and scratches when I found her on the porch."

He turned to her and swallowed hard. "It's my wife. She's unwell. She's been institutionalized so she cannot hurt my daughter again." The matron began to speak but he continued. "I've been away."

She looked at his attire. "Navy?"

He grunted noncommitally.

"Well, I haven't even had a chance to file the paperwork, what with caring for all of these little darlings all by myself." She petted the filthy hair of a boy who ducked away from her. "And the girl never would tell me her name. Shy little thing," she added with an attempt at warmth.

"It's Mad-" he began.

"I'd just as soon not bother with filing at this point with you collecting her and all!" she said quickly.

He nodded and started back down the row toward the door.

"Eh," she said, smoothing her hair and running her fingers along the neckline of her dress as she followed him. "You don't have to go right away," she said seductively. "The weather's so foul. Ye could spend the ni–"

Disgusted, he walked out the door.

Later, an anonymous donor supplied the city with a new orphanage building and other items, with the stipulation that a new matron was to be hired.